, fti  ihcorogtffl/ 


PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


y.'f 


Purchased  by  the  Hammill  Missionary  Fund. 


Division  DSS 
Section  .U45 
Number 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/throughasia01hedi_0 


THROUGH  ASIA 


By  SVEN  HEDIN.  With 

Nearly  Three  Hundred  Illus- 
trations from  Sketches  and 
Photographs  by  the  A.uthor 


In  Two  Volumes 
Vol.  I. 


HARPER  6 BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

1899 


Copyright,  1898,  by  Harphr  8;  Rrotiibrs. 

Ail  righti  rtse*“vtd. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PA(iF 

Portrait  of  Author.  Photogravure Frontis/iieie 

A Street  in  Orenburg I'hotogra/ih  i>y  Author  30 

My  Tarantass  with  a Troika  (Team  of  Three  Horses)  " 38 

Kirghis  Camel  Rider  on  the  Steppes ••  41 

The  “Town”  of  Kara-butak “ 43 

Harnessing  a Troika “ 45 

The  Station  of  Konstantinovskaya " 48 

My  Tarantass  Drawn  by  Three  Camels " 49 

The  Kirghiz  Steppe,  near  Lake  Aral “ 50 

My  Tarantass  Drawn  by  a Patyorka  (Team  of  Five 

Horses) “ 52 

The  Syr-daria,  near  Kazalinsk “ 53 

Another  View  of  the  Syr-daria  near  Kazalinsk  ...  “ 56 

A Miserable  Station  near  the  Syr-daria “ 58 

Crossing  the  River  Aris “ 62 

General  View  of  Tashkend “ 63 

"Bit”  of  Tashkend “ 67 

View  from  the  Mohammedan  Portion  of  Tashkend  . . " 70 

•A.  Street  in  Tashkend “ 71 

Kirghiz  Yurts  (Tents)  in  Tashkend " 74 

A View  from  Tashkend " 76 

The  Main  Entrance  to  a Bazaar " 79 

En  Route  from  Margelan  to  the  Alai  Mountains  . . “ 100 

The  Station  of  Austan “ 103 

The  Isfalran  Valley “ 107 

View  between  Austan  and  Langar “ 1 1 1 

Making  a Road  in  the  Alai  Mountains “ 113 

A Portion  of  the  Alai  Mountains,  as  seen  from  the 

Pass  of  Tenghiz-bai “ 117 

The  Alai  and  Trans -Alai  Mountains,  seen  from  the 

Pass  of  Tenghiz-bai “ 121 

Our  Camp  at  Daraut-Kurgan “ 124 

.\ly  Caravan  in  the  Alai  Valley “ 127 

Amid  the  Snows  of  the  .Alai  Valley “ 131 


xvi  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

TnC  Aul  of  Oundi Ptwtograph  by  Author  1^2 

The  Kizil-su ••  134 

Camels  Trampling  a Path  Through  the  Snow.  ...  ••  r35 

Our  Horses  Endeavoring  to  Find  Grass  in  the  Snow  . “ 137 

Jan  Ali  Emin  Riding  Through  the  Snow ••  138 

Crossing  the  Kizil-su ••  130 

Crossing  the  Kizil-su  (a  Second  View) 140 

Marching  Up  the  Alai  Valley ••  141 

Bor-doba 146 

Some  of  our  Pack-horses “ 149 

(ireat  Kara-kul,  seen  from  Uy-bulak “ 153 

Taking  a Sounding  Through  the  Ice  of  Great  Kara-kul  • Sketch  by  Author  157 

Making  a Sounding-hole  in  Lake  Kara-kul Photograph  by  Author  159 

A Small  Island  in  Lake  Kara-kul ••  161 

The  Stone  Hut  at  Ak-tam 163 

A Rest  on  the  Pass  of  Ak-baital 167 

Kornei-tarti — Breaking  up  Camp “ 168 

The  Kirghiz  Beg  of  the  Aul  of  Murghab ••  171 

Tajiks  from  Roshan 173 

The  Author  and  the  Russian  Officers  at  Fort  Pamir  . “ 174 

A Transitional  Landscape  on  the  Pamirs — One  of  our 

Camps " 177 

Northern  Face  of  Fort  Pamir ••  1S5 

Interior  of  Fort  I^amir,  Looking  South “ 189 

The  Jighits’  Tents  at  Fort  Pamir ••  193 

Russians  and  Kirghiz  at  Fort  Pamir '■  195 

The  Conglomerate  Terrace  on  which  Fort  Pamir  Stands  " 196 

Landscape  near  Fort  Pamir,  looking  Northwest  — 

Russian  Officers  Returning  from  a Hunt  ....  •'  197 

Togdasin  Beg Sketch  by  Author  21 3 

Mus-tagh-ata  seen  from  the  North • 221 

Our  Caravan  in  the  Valley  of  the  Ghez-daria  ....  Photograph  by  Author  225 

The  Ghez-daria 227 

Bridge  over  the  Ghez-daria •*  229 

Shang,  Dao  Tai  of  Kashgar 235 

Garden  of  the  Russian  Consulate  in  Kashgar  ....  “ 244 

Cattle  and  Sheep  near  Kara-yilga •*  263 

A Kirghiz  Aul  in  the  Eastern  Pamirs 267 

Kirghiz  Mother  with  her  Boys 279 

A Kirghiz  Baiga " 282 

Kirghiz  Children sketch  by  Author  285 

West  Shore  of  Little  Kara-kul Photograph  by  Author  292 

Our  Camp  at  Yanikkeh,  Eastern  Shore  of  Little  Kara-kul  " 298 

Mus-tagh-ata  from  Bassyk-kul.  looking  South-southeast . Sketch  by  Author  304 


TO 

ms  ROYAL  HIGHNESS 

THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES 

■mis  KKCORl)  OF 
NFARLV  FOUR  YEARS’  TRAVELS 
IS  nv  ms  PERMISSION 
RESPECTFULLY  AND  GRATEFULLY 


IDcDicateD 


PREFACE 


This  work  does  not  claim  to  be  anything  more  than  a plain 
account  of  my  journeys  through  Asia  during  the  years  1893 
to  1897.  been  written  for  the  general  public,  and  pre- 

sents nothing  more  than  a description  of  my  travels  and  the 
more  memorable  of  my  experiences — not  by  any  means  the 
whole  of  my  experiences.  To  have  recorded  everything  that 
I set  down  in  my  note-books  would  have  swelled  out  the 
book  to  twice  its  existing  length.  Nevertheless  those  por- 
tions of  my  journey  which  I have  merely  touched  upon,  or 
have  passed  over  altogether  in  silence,  will  not,  I trust,  be 
altogether  lost.  If  this  book  is  received  with  the  indulgence 
which  I venture  to  hope  for  it,  I propose  to  issue  a supple- 
mentary volume,  to  contain  a multitude  of  matters  of  varied 
interest  and  of  not  less  importance  than  those  contained  in 
these  pages. 

For  these  reasons  the  great  bulk  of  the  scientific  observa- 
tions I made  find  no  place  in  the  present  volumes.  All  the 
same,  I believe  the  geographer  will  be  able  to  discover  in 
them  something  or  other  that  will  be  of  interest  to  him. 

In  this  place  I will  content  myself  with  a bare  mention  of 
the  scientific  labors,  upon  which  the  chief  part  of  my  time, 
energy,  and  attention  was  constantly  expended — the  draw- 
ing of  geological  sections  of  the  meridional  border  ranges  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Pamirs  and  of  the  mountain-chains  of  the 
Kwen-lun  system  ; the  collecting  of  anthropometrical  meas- 


THROUGH  ASIA 


vi 

urements  from  a number  of  Kirghiz;  an  inquir}'  into  the 
periodical  migrations  of  the  nomads;  a study  of  the  etymol- 
ogy of  the  geographical  nornenclatures ; measurement  of  the 
volume  of  every  river  I crossed ; bathymetrical  soundings  in 
the  lakes  ; and  the  collection  of  botanical  specimens,  more 
especially  of  algae  from  the  lofty  alpine  regions  of  the  Pamirs 
and  Tibet.  Moreover,  I devoted  special  attention  to  the  tak- 
ing of  meteorological  observations  regularly  three  times  a 
day.  These  Ur.  Nils  Ekholm  has  kindly  undertaken  to  work 
out  for  me.  Another  important  task  was  the  collection  of 
voluminous  materials  dealing  with  the  geographical  character 
and  extent  of  the  Desert  of  Gobi,  as  also  with  the  compli- 
cated river-system  of  the  Tarim,  which  I was  enabled  to  study 
at  many  different  points  all  the  way  from  the  Pamirs  and  the 
highland  regions  of  Tibet  down  to  the  termination  of  the 
stream  in  the  far-distant  lake  of  Lop-nor.  Further,  I noted 
the  periodical  fluctuations  in  the  volumes  of  the  Central 
Asiatic  rivers;  how  during  the  summer  they  swell  to  flood- 
like dimensions,  and  then  during  the  winter  dwindle  away  to, 
in  many  cases,  paltry  rivulets,  or  even  dry  up  altogether;  and 
how  these  fluctuations  occur  with  unvarving  regularitv — the 
ebb  and  flow,  as  it  were,  that  accompany  the  heart-beats  of 
the  mighty  continent. 

The  astronomical  observations,  which  I made  for  the  pur- 
pose of  checking  and  controlling  my  instrumental  calcula- 
tions, consisted  of  determinations  of  latitude  and  time  in 
seventeen  several  places.  The  instrument  1 employed  was  a 
prismatic  circle,  and  the  object  I observed  the  sun  or,  failing 
that,  the  moon.  Mr.  Rosen,  who  has  kindly  calculated  my 
results,  is  satisfied  that  the  errors  in  the  latitudinal  observa- 
tions are  in  every  instance  less  than  fifteen  seconds,  and  in 
the  temporal  determinations  in  all  cases  under  one  .second. 
The  longitudes  of  certain  of  the  stations  were  already  known 
with  scientific  exactitude:  these  data  I employed  as  bases  for 


PREFACE 


\ ii 

the  determination  of  the  longitudes  of  the  remaining  i)laces. 
Py  this  means,  too,  I was  enabled  to  check  more  effectually 
the  accuracy  of  my  chronometers,  a circumstance  the  more 
needful  seeing  that  these  latter  were  frequently  subjected  to 
the  roimh  vicissitudes  of  travel  through  difficult  regions.  1 
brought  home  latitudinal  observations  for  seven  fresh  places, 
and  longitudinal  observations  for  six. 

As  soon  as  I passed  beyond  the  fairly  well-known  regions 
of  the  Russian  Pamirs,  I took  uj),  in  the  summer  of  1894,  the 
strictly  topographical  division  of  my  labors,  and  with  diopter, 
plane-table,  and  calculation  of  paces  measured  the  environs 
of  the  lake  Little  Kara-kul ; next  1 mapped  the  glaciers  of 
that  king  of  the  Central  Asiatic  mountain-giants,  Mus-tagh- 
ata.  After  that  I surveyed  every  route  I travelled  over  dur- 
ing the  years  1894,  1895,  1^96.  and  the  early  part  of  1897. 
These  important  labors  were  never  for  a single  day  remitted, 
'riiroughout  the  whole  of  the  long  red  line,  which  marks  my 
travels  through  Asia,  there  is  not  a single  break  right  away 
to  the  day  (March  2d,  1897)  when  I rode  in  at  the  gate  of 
Peking,  and  recorded  my  last  entry  on  the  five  hundred  and 
fifty-second  sheet  of  my  field-book  or  surveying  journal. 

In  making  these  measurements  I used  only  a compass  and 
a base-line.  The  latter  varied  from  200  (656  feet)  to  400 
(1312^  feet)  meters,  and  was  in  e\  ery  case  accurately  meas- 
ured with  the  meter-measure.  After  measuring  my  base-line, 
I carefully  noted  the  time  it  took  the  caravan,  properly  laden 
and  travelling  at  its  ordinary  average  pace,  to  traverse  it  from 
the  one  end  to  the  other ; at  the  same  time  I was  scrupulous 
to  make  all  due  allowance  for  the  inclination  of  the  ground 
and  other  inequalities  of  the  surface. 

As  a rule,  I laid  down  my  maps  on  the  scale  i : 95,000. 
Across  the  level  expanses  of  the  deserts,  however,  I worked 
to  the  scale  i : 200,000 ; and  in  mountainous  regions,  where 
the  road  wound  through  defiles,  where  numerous  side-valleys 


THROUGH  ASIA 


viii 

joined  the  main  valley,  and  where  the  morphological  character 
of  the  surface  underwent  frequent  and  varying  changes,  I used 
the  scale  of  i : 50,000.  I'he  aggregate  distance  of  the  route 
I mapped  in  this  way  amounts  to  1049  Swedish  miles,  or  6520 
English  miles — that  is  to  say,  nearly  four  and  a half  times  the 
distance  from  London  to  Constantinople,  two  and  a half  times 
the  distance  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco,  and  one  and 
a half  times  the  distance  from  Cairo  to  Cape  Town  ; in  other 
words,  more  than  one -quarter  of  the  earth’s  circumference. 
If  to  this  be  added  more  than  8000  miles  which  I travelled 
by  carriage  or  rail  in  the  better  known  portions  of  the  con- 
tinent, we  get  for  the  entire  extent  of  my  travels  a grand  total 
of  14,600  miles,  or  more  than  the  distance  from  the  North 
Pole  to-  the  South  Pole.  The  rate  of  travel  of  my  caravans, 
calculated  from  the  results  of  the  whole  of  the  journey,  aver- 
ages a little  over  two  and  three-quarter  miles  an  hour. 

Out  of  the  above-mentioned  6520  miles  no  less  than  2020 
were  through  regions  which  no  European  had  ever  before 
visited.  Over  certain  portions  of  the  remaining  4500  miles 
one  traveller  had  preceded  me,  over  other  portions  two  travel- 
lers, but  in  no  case  more  than  three.  Despite  that,  my  ob- 
servations along  even  those  stretches  may  claim  to  possess  a 
certain  degree  of  originality ; for  being  able  to  speak  Jagatai 
Turki  with  fluency,  I was  independent  of  the  errors  and  will- 
ful deceits  of  interpreters,  and,  consequently,  was  in  a posi- 
tion to  orather  a s^ood  deal  of  information  of  a more  or  less 
important  character  which  will  be  new  to  most  readers.  I'or 
one  thing,  I was  able  to  record  avast  number  of  geographical 
names,  none  of  which  had  hitherto  appeared  on  any  map, 
luiropean  or  Asiatic. 

As  a curiosity,  I may  mention  that  the  552  sheets  upon 
which  my  route  is  laid  down  measure  121  yards  in  length; 
and  this  docs  not  include  the  maj)s  I made  of  the  glaciers  of 
Mus-tagh-ata.  P'or  the  present  these  sheets  and  such  other 


VREVACK 


IX 


cartographical  materials  as  I brought  home  with  me  are 
lodged  at  the  famous  geographical  institute  of  Justus  Perthes 
in  Gotha,  where  they  are  all  being  worked  out  in  detail, 
and  the  results  will  be  eventually  published  in  Peiermanns 
Mitteilungen. 


Although  fully  conscious  of  the  mistakes  of  my  journey, 
and  of  the  shortcomings  of  this,  my  book,  and  while  aware 
that  a more  experienced  traveller  would  have  reaped  a richer 
and  a more  valuable  harvest  from  the  fields  uiJon  which  I 
labored,  I nevertheless  comfort  myself  with  the  refiection 
that  I believe  I really  did  my  best  as  far  as  lay  in  my  power. 

A word  or  two  as  to  the  accessories  of  the  book.  The  two 
principal  maps  have  been  prepared  at  the  Lithographical  In- 
stitute of  the  (Swedish)  (General  Staff,  under  the  superintend- 
ence of  Lieut.  H.  Bystrom ; my  original  place-determina- 
tions being  embodied  upon  Curzon’s  map  of  the  Pamirs,  and 
Pievtsoff’s  map  of  Central  Asia,  as  foundations  for  the  two 
maps  respectively.  Their  primary  purpose  is  to  illustrate 
and  make  clear  the  routes  I followed.  Hence  they  do  not 
claim  to  be  accurate  in  matters  of  minute  detail ; indeed, 
thev  could  not  be  so,  seeing  that  my  cartographical  data  have 
not  yet  been  completely  worked  out. 

In  consequence  of  the  generosity  of  my  publishers,  I am 
fortunately  enabled  to  impart  a fuller  measure  of  life  and 
reality  to  certain  exciting  and  characteristic  incidents  of  my 
story  by  means  of  pictures  drawn  by  Swedish  artists.  The 
illustrations  to  which  I allude  must  not,  however,  be  regarded 
as  mere  products  of  the  artistic  imagination.  For  each  of 
them  I supplied  sufficient  material  in  the  nature  of  sketches 
and  photographs,  and  where  such  were  wanting  I furnished 
precise  and  detailed  descriptions.  In  a word,  each  individual 
picture  has  come  to  life  as  it  were  under  my  own  eye  and 
under  my  own  controlling  hand ; and  I cannot  help  express- 


X 


THROUGH  ASIA 


ing  my  admiration  of  the  quickness  of  apprehension  and  the 
lively  interest  which  the  several  artists  have  manifested  in 
their  work. 

For  the  original  calculation  of  the  altitudes,  which  occur 
throughout  these  pages,  I am  indebted  to  the  kindness  and 
skill  of  Dr.  Nils  Ekholm.  For  the  conversion  of  the  metric 
heights  and  other  measurements  into  feet,  miles,  etc.,  and  for 
the  conversion  of  the  Celsius  scale  into  the  Fahrenheit  scale, 
as  well  as  for  the  transliteration  of  the  place-names,  the  trans- 
lator is  responsible. 

b'inally,  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  acknowledge  a special  debt 
of  thanks  to  Mr.  J.  T.  Bealby,  B.A.,  sometime  of  the  editorial 
staffs  of  the  Encyclapccdia  Britannica,  Chambers' s Encyclo- 
paedia, the  ability  and  experienced  and  conscientious 

care  with  which  he  has  rendered  my  original  Swedish  into 
English.  In  the  translation  of  a ])ortion  of  the  book,  Mr, 
Bealby  was  assisted  by  Miss  E.  H.  Hearn. 

Sven  Hedin. 

Stockholm,  May  \sL  1898, 


CONTENTS 


INTROnrCTION 

CHAl’TKK  I vAc.E 

R£si  m<c  of  Ckntrai.  Asian  Kxpi.oration  3 

ClIAl’ri'.R  II 

The  Plan  and  Objects  of  My  Joi  rney 18 

CHAPTF.R  III 

Across  Rcssia  to  Orenburg 28 

CHAPTER  IV 

Across  the  Kirghiz  Steppes 36 

CIIAPl'ER  V 

From  Fake  Aral  to  rASiiKEND 47 

CHAPTER  VI 

From  Tashkend  to  Margelan 66 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  Syr-daria 83 

A WINTER  JOURNEY  OVER  THE  PAMIRS 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Up  the  IsfaIran  Valley 95 

CHAPTER  IX 

Oyer  the  Tenghiz-bai  Pass 114 

CHAPTER  X 

Up  the  Alai  Valley 126 


CONTENTS 


xii 

CHAPTER  XI  PAGE 

Over  the  Trans-alaI 143 

CHAPTER  XII 

Lake  Kara  kul 15 1 

CHAPTER  XIII 

Population  of  the  Russian  Pamirs 170 

CHAPTER  XIV 

Geographical  Summary 175 

CHAPTER  XV 

Fort  Pamir 184 

^J'HE  MUS-TAGH-ATA  AND  ITS  GLACIERS 

CHAPTER  XVI 

From  the  Murghab  to  Bulun-kui 201 

CHAPTER  XVII 

MUS  TAGH-ATA 20() 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

An  Attempt  to  Climb  Mus-tagii-ata 219 

CHAPTER  XIX 

Reminiscences  ok  Kashgar 230 

CHAPTER  XX 

A Chinese  Dinner-party 238 

CHAPTER  XXI 

From  Kashgar  to  Ighiz-yar 24O 

CHAPTER  XXII 

'Through  the  Gorge  ok  'Tenghi  tar 254 

CHAPTER  XXHI 

'The  Plain  of  'Tagharma 270 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

Among  the  Kirghiz 277 


CONTENTS 


xiii 

CllArTliR  XXV  PA<;u 

l.ITTI.K  KaKA-KI’I.  l.AKK 2S9 

CIIArTKR  XXVI 

Lrrri.E  Kara-kli.  Lake  (Coit/intuu/) 

Cl  I ART  KR  XXVII 

Among  the  Glaciers  oe  Mi  s tagh-ata 3'3 

CIIARTKR  XXVIII 

My  Second  Attemi't  to  Ascend  Mus-tagh  ata 331 

CIIARTKR  XXIX 

My  Third  Attempt  to  Ascend  Mcs-tagh-aea 35° 

CIIARTKR  XXX 

Moonlight  on  Mus-tagh-ata 358 

CIIARTKR  XXXI 

To  Fort  Ramir  and  Back 380 

CHARTER  XXXII 

Boating  Adventures  on  the  Little  Kara-kit 397 

CIIARTKR  XXXIII 

Life  among  i he  Kirghiz 413 

CIIARTKR  XXXIV 

Return  to  Kashgar 425 

ACROSS  THE  TAKLA-MAKAN  DESERT 

CHARTER  XXXV 

To  Maral-kashi 433 

CHARTER  XXXVI 

An  Excursion  to  the  Masar-tagh 443 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 

The  Shrine  of  Ordan  Padshah 455 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

465 


On  the  Threshold  of  the  Desert 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XXXIX  ,age 

The  Start  from  Merket  47^ 

CHAPTER  XL 

Skirting  the  Desert 485 

CHAPTER  XLI 

An  Earthly  Paradise 500 

CHAPTER  XLII 

In  the  Ban  of  riiE  Desert 510 

CHAPTER  XLIII 

The  Camels  Break  Down 522 

CHAPTER  XLIV 

No  Water  Left 535 

CHAPTER  XLV 

The  Camp  of  Death 552 

CHAPTER  XLVI 

The  Crisis  Comes 5^)5 

CHAPTER  XLVII 

A Desperate  March 575 

CHAPTER  XIATII 

Human  Beings  at  Last 590 

CHAPTER  XLIX 

With  the  Shepherds  of  the  Khotan-Daria 603 

CHAPTER  L 

A Rescue  Party 613 

CHAPTER  LI 

Down  tiif,  Kiiotan-daria  624 

CHAPTER  LIl 

From  Ak-su  to  Kashgar 635 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xvii 

FAGli 

Tlie  Lower  Hassyk-kul  and  tlie  Mus-tagli  Cliain  . . . sketch  by  Author  310 

The  (iorumdeh  Glaciers,  looking  South “ 315 

Hassyk-kul  and  Hassyk-kulden-kiasi-davan “ 317 

Sketch  Map  of  Mus-tagh-ata “ Facing  318 

Sarimek  and  Kamper-kishlak  Glaciers,  looking  South- 
east   “ 3-0 

The  Vam-bulak  Glacier  and  its  Portal  in  the  Mus- 

tilgll-Uta Photograph  by  Author  322 

On  the  Vam-bulak  Glacier,  looking  East sketch  by  Author  323 

\’iew  from  the  Yam-bulak  Glacier,  looking  West  . . Photograph  by  Author  324 

The  Glacier  Stream  of  the  Yam-bulak  Glacier,  looking 

East Sketch  by  Author  326 

Building  a Kirghiz  Yurt Photograph  by  Author  328 

Mus-tagh-ata,  seen  from  the  West sketch  by  Author  333 

The  Yaks  Taking  a Rest  on  the  Lower  Slopes  of  the 

Mus-tagh-ata “ 337 

Togda  Bai  Beg “ 345 

The  Terghen-bulak  Glacier “ Facing  352 

The  Chal-tumak  Glacier  ...  “ “ 354 

Chal-tumak  Glacier,  looking  North  “ 359 

The  Terghen-bulak  Glacier,  looking  South “ 363 

Starting  to  Ascend  the  Mus-tagh-ata Photograph  by  Author  367 

The  Right  Lateral  Moraine  of  the  Yam-bulak  Glacier, 

looking  East-southeast “ 369 

The  Highest  Part  of  the  Yam-bulak  Glacier  ....  Sketch  by  Author  371 

Our  Camp  near  Yam-bulak-bashi Photograph  by  Author  374 

An  Old  Kirghiz  from  Sarik-kol Sketch  by  Author  383 

A Kirghiz  Girl “ 388 

Yeshil-kul,  looking  Southeast  from  its  Western  End  . . “ 392 

Islam  Bai  and  Two  Kirghiz  with  the  Plane-table  on 

the  Chum-kar-kashka  Glacier Photograph  by  Author  393 

Kara-korum,  on  the  South  of  Mus-tagh-ata  ....  Sketch  by  Author  395 
Our  Makeshift  Boat  on  the  Little  Kara-kul  ....  " 401 

My  Horse-skin  Boat  in  a Heavy  Storm  on  the  Little 

Kara-kul By  D.  LJungdahl  405 

Keng-shevar  (the  Place  where  the  Ike-bel-su  Issues  from 

the  Mus-tagh  Range)  Shrouded  in  Mist  ....  sketch  by  Author  410 

My  Caravan  on  the  March Photograph  by  Author  41 1 

Kirghiz  Girl  from  Tur-bulung Sketch  by  Author  415 

Group  of  Kirghiz  Women Photograph  by  Author  419 

A Young  Wife  of  the  Kara-teit  Tribe  of  Kirghiz  . . Sketch  by  Author  423 

One  of  my  Arbas  (Carts)  on  the  Road  from  Kashgar 

to  Maral-bashi “ 437 

A Dervish  from  East  Turkestan " 448 


xviii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

A Saint’s  Shrine  in  Central  Asia  (the  Atturlik  Ata- 


masar  at  Tashkend) Photograph  by  Author 

Entrance  to  a Bazaar  in  a Central  Asian  Village  . . 

A Camel's  Head 

A Camel  in  Winter  Dress " 

Sand-storm  at  the  Edge  of  the  Takla-makan  Desert  . Sketch  by  Author 

Marching  in  a Sand-storm 

A Halt  in  the  Desert  to  Water  the  Animals  ....  By  D.  Ljungdahi.  Face 
Camp  No.  IX.,  on  the  Shore  of  the  Desert  Lake  . . By  G.  Haihtrdm 

“The  Dunes  Increased  Rapidly  in  Height”  ....  Sketch  by  Author 

A Desert  Sand-storm By  n.  Ljungdahi 

Marching  Along  the  Edge  of  a Sand-dune 

Digging  the  Deceitful  Well By  D.  Ljungdahi.  Face 

The  First  Two  Camels  Abandoned  in  a Dying  State  . Sketch  by  Author 

The  Last  Five  Camels “ 

The  Camp  of  Death By  d.  Ljungdahi 

Abandoning  the  Wreck  of  our  Caravan 

The  First  Tamarisk Sketch  by  Author 

Crawling  Through  the  Forest  in  Search  of  Water  . . By  n.  Ljungdahi 

The  Author  Carrying  Water  in  his  Boots,  in  the  Bed 

of  the  Khotan-daria Sketch  by  Author 

“Would  You  Like  Some  Water  I Asked  ....  By  D.  Ljungdahi 

Landscape  on  the  Right  Bank  of  the  Khotan-daria  . By  g.  Haiutrom 

Attacked  by  a Sand-storm  in  the  Bed  of  the  Khotan- 

daria  By  M.  Adlercreutz 

Mosque  at  Ak-su 

Bazaar  in  a Central  Asiatic  Town Photograph  by  Author 


Shop  in  a Bazaar 

Street  in  a Town  of  Central  Asia 
Mohammed  Emin 


Crowd  at  the  Entrance  of  a Bazaar Photograph  by  Author 

Part  of  Kum-darvaseh,  One  of  the  Gates  of  Kashgar  . Sketch  by  Author 


Court-yard  of  a Mosque  in  Central  Asia  . ) 

„ . ./'-i-  I Photographs  by  Author 

A Group  of  Kirghiz  and  a Chinaman > 


PAr.B 

459 

469 

477 

478 

489 

493 

496 

505 

511 

5'7 

525 

532 

539 

543 

557 

571 

577 

587 

593 

599 

617 

629 

636 

637 

640 

641 

643 

644 

646 

647 


INTRODUCTION 


CHAPTER  I 


Rp:SrME  OF  C'KNTRAL  ASIAN’  EXPLORATION 

.A  NEW  era  is  ajDproaching  in  the  historical  develoj)ment  of 
geographical  discovery.  The  pioneers  will  soon  have  played 
their  part ; the  “white  patches  ” on  the  maps  of  the  continents 
are  gradually  decreasing:  our  knowledge  of  the  physical  con- 
ditions of  the  ocean  is  every  year  becoming  more  complete. 
The  pioneers  of  the  past,  who  cleared  the  way  through  in- 
creasing danger  and  difficulty,  have  been  followed  by  the  ex- 
plorers of  the  present  da)',  examining  in  detail  the  surface  of 
the  earth  and  its  restless  life,  always  finding  new  gaps  to  fill, 
new  problems  to  solve. 

Although  many  regions  have  already  been  the  object  of 
detailed  investigation,  there  are  several  still  remaininu;  in 
which  the  pioneer  has  not  yet  finished  his  work.  This  is 
particularly  the  case  with  the  interior  of  Asia,  which  has  long 
been  neglected.  Immense  areas  of  the  almost  inaccessible 
Desert  of  Gobi,  and  endless  wastes  in  the  highlands  of  Tibet, 
are  to  this  day  as  little  known  as  the  Polar  Regions. 

It  was  with  the  view  of  contributing  my  little  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  geography  of  Central  Asia  that  I set  out  on  the 
journey  which  this  book  describes.  I had  prepared  myself 
for  it  by  years  of  work  in  my  study;  and  in  1890-91  I made 
a reconnaissance  into  Russian  Turkestan  and  Kashgar,  in 
order  to  examine  the  suitability  of  those  territories  as  a base 
of  operations  for  exploring  unknown  country. 

After  my  return  from  Kashgar,  my  chief  concern  was  to 
procure  the  necessary  means  for  carrying  out  my  undertak- 
ing. To  His  Majesty  King  Oscar  of  Sweden  and  Norway  I 
accordingly  addressed  the  following  particulars  of  my  plan, 
which  I give  here,  as  they  will  best  show  how  far  and  in  what 


4 


THROUGH  ASIA 


manner  I succeeded  in  fulfilling  the  task  I set  myself.  Some- 
what abbreviated,  my  memorandum  ran  as  follows : 

In  the  heart  of  Asia,  between  the  two  highest  chains  of 
mountains  on  the  earth,  the  Kwen-lun  and  the  Himalayas,  is 
the  most  stupendous  upheaval  to  be  found  on  the  face  of  our 
planet — the  Tibetan  Highlands.  Its  average  height  is  13,- 
000  feet,  and  in  the  north  it  attains  as  much  as  15,000  feet. 
Its  area,  therefore,  of  770,000  square  miles  (two  and  a half 
times  that  of  the  Scandinavian  peninsula),  is  on  a level  with 
the  highest  peaks  of  the  Alps.  According  to  the  Chinese 
maps,  its  northern  parts,  which  constitute  one  of  the  least 
known  tracts  of  Asia,  appear  to  consist  of  a system  of  unin- 
habited lake -basins  possessing  no  outflow.  Farther  south 
the  Tibetan  and  Mongol  nomads  lead  a wandering  shepherd 
life ; and  it  is  only  in  the  extreme  south  of  the  region  that 
there  is  any  population. 

Tibet  lies  aside  from  the  great  highways  used  by  travellers 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  Only  a few  of  the  more  advent- 
urous Europeans  have  done  their  share  towards  collecting 
the  scanty  material  upon  which  our  present  knowledge  of  the 
country  is  based.  Its  desolate  scenery,  its  lofty,  inaccessible 
mountains,  and  its  extreme  remoteness,  situated,  as  it  is,  in 
the  heart  of  a vast  continent,  have  deterred  travellers,  and 
driven  them  to  find  scope  for  their  activity  in  other  parts  of 
the  world — in  the  Polar  Regions,  among  the  oceanic  islands, 
or  where  the  coast  has  provided  a certain  point  of  departure 
to  unknown  regions  lying  within  comparatively  easy  reach. 
.And  yet  there  is  scarcely  any  part  of  the  world  in  which 
the  explorer  is  so  richly  rewarded  for  his  pains,  or  finds  such 
an  inexhaustible  field  for  observation  of  every  kind,  as 
in  Tibet — the  country  whence  the  light  of  holiness  streams 
forth  upon  the  world  of  Lamaism,  just  as  its  waters,  in 
the  form  of  mighty  rivers,  stream  forth  to  give  life  and 
nourishment  to  the  countries  which  surround  it.  Many 
imi)ortant  problems  in  physical  geograj)hy  still  await  their 
solution  in  Tibet  and  in  the  Desert  of  Gobi,  each  of  which 
would  be  a distinct  gain  to  science.  In  a strictly  geo- 
graphical sense,  I'ibet  is  one  of  the  least  known  regions 


CKNTRAL  ASIAN  EXPLORATION 


5 


in  the  world.  luen  the  niaj)s  of  Africa  cannot  now  show 
a white  patch  of  such  vast  extent  as  occurs  under  the  name 
of  Tibet  on  our  maps  of  Central  Asia.  In  this  resj)ect 
the  Polar  Regions  alone  are  comparable  with  Tibet.  The 
itineraries  furnished  by  the  Roman  Catholic  missionaries, 
at  a period  when  the  country  was  more  easily  accessible 
than  it  is  at  the  present  time,  cannot  be  followed  on  the 
map  with  absolute  certainty,  and  from  a geographical  stand- 
point are  often  of  little  \alue. 

Hut  even  this  country,  jealously  closed  as  it  is  by  fa- 
naticism, has  been  compelled  to  ojien  its  doors  to  the  per- 
sistency of  European  incpiiry.  The  western  and  eastern 
parts,  in  particular,  have  been  traversed  by  Iinglish,  Rus- 
sian, and  P'rench  travellers.  In  modern  times  the  only  ex- 
plorers who  have  gained  entrance  to  Lhasa  (Lassa)  have 
been  a few  Indian  pundits,  trained  by  British  officers.  The 
jealous  apprehensions  of  the  Chinese  Government,  the  re- 
ligious fanaticism  of  the  Tibetans,  and  the  wild  nature 
of  their  country  — these  are  the  factors  which  have  kept 
Tibet  in  isolation  longer  than  any  other  country  in  Asia. 
At  a time  when  the  influence  of  neither  Russia  nor  Eng- 
land was  so  great  as  it  is  now,  more  than  one  European 
succeeded  in  crossing  the  country,  and  even  in  reaching 
the  capital.  The  first  European  to  enter  Lhasa  was  a 
monk,  Odorico  di  Pordenone,  who  travelled  from  China  to 
Tibet  in  the  first  half  of  the  fourteenth  century.  In  1624 
the  Spanish  Jesuit  Antonius  de  Andrade  went  from  India 
to  Tibet;  and  in  1661  the  two  Jesuit  missionaries,  Grueber 
and  D’Orville,  made  their  remarkable  journey  from  Peking 
to  Lhasa  by  way  of  Koko-nor  (Koko-nur),  Tsaidam,  and  the 
country  of  the  Tanguts.  They  remained  in  the  capital 
for  two  months,  and  then  returned  by  way  of  Nepal  to 
Agra,  and  thence  to  Europe.  In  the  eighteenth  century 
the  mysterious  city  was  visited  by  several  missionaries. 
Desideri  lived  in  Lhasa  from  1716  to  1729,  and  Della 
Penna  from  1719  to  1735,  and  again  from  1740  to  1746; 
they,  however,  have  left  no  writings,  except  a few  letters. 
Between  the  years  1729  and  1737  the  bold  Dutchman  Van 


6 


THROUGH  ASIA 


der  Putte  travelled  from  India,  by  way  of  Lhasa  and  Koko- 
nor,  to  Peking,  whence  he  returned  through  F'arther  India 
to  Lhasa.  On  his  return  home  he  burned  all  his  papers, 
under  the  impression  that  nobody  would  believe  his  wonder- 
ful narrative.  In  i8ii  Manning  reached  Lhasa;  and  in 
1845  the  two  French  missionaries,  Hue  and  Gabet,  made 
their  celebrated  journey  from  Peking  b}'  way  of  Koko-nor, 
Burkhan-buddha,  and  Tan -la  to  the  capital  of  Tibet,  a 
journey  which  Prather  Hue  described  in  an  interesting  book. 
Since  then  no  European  has  succeeded  in  penetrating  to 
Lhasa.  Every  subsequent  expedition  which  started  with 
that  city  as  its  goal  has  been  compelled  to  turn  back,  its 
mission  unaccomplished. 

As  I mentioned  before,  the  outlying  parts  of  the  country 
have  been  visited  by  several  European  travellers,  not  all  of 
whom,  however,  have  done  scientific  work  or  brought  home 
valuable  information.  The  extreme  west  of  Tibet  was  ex- 
plored in  1856  and  1857  by  the  brothers  Schlagintweit,  in 
1865  by  Johnson,  in  1868-70  by  Shaw,  in  1868-70  by  Hay- 
ward, and  in  1870  and  1873-74  by  Forsyth  and  his  many 
associates,  in  1885-87  by  Carey  and  Dalgleish,  in  1888-90 
by  Grombtehevsky.  Kishen  Singh,  an  Indian  pundit,  who 
was  a member  of  Forsyth’s  expedition,  succeeded  in  pene- 
trating somewhat  farther  into  the  countrv  than  the  others. 
One  of  the  most  remarkable  journeys  ever  made  in  Tibet 
was  that  of  the  pundit  Nain  Singh,  who  had  taken  part  in 
Schlagintweit’s  and  P'orsyth’s  expeditions,  and  was  sent  by 
Captain  Trotter,  in  July,  1874,  from  Leh  in  Ladak  to  Lhasa. 
His  caravan  consisted  of  twenty -six  sheep,  carrying  light 
loads.  Only  four  of  them  survived  the  journey,  which  e.x- 
tended  to  a thousand  miles  and  lasted  four  months.  The 
animals  subsisted  on  such  herbage  as  they  were  able  to  find 
on  the  way.  .\t  the  town  of  Niagzu,  on  the  boundary  be- 
tween Ladak  and  Tibet,  they  met  with  both  forest  and 
pasture.  The  tract  east  of  Lake  IMnggong  was  uninhabit- 
ed, except  by  a few  shepherds  and  their  docks.  I'he  natives 
called  themselves  Changpas  or  Northmen;  but  to  the  inhab- 
itants of  Turkestan  they  were  known  as  'Paghliks  or  Moun- 


CENTRAL  ASIAN  EXPLORATION 


7 


taineers.  The  Tibetan  plateau  stretched  away  east  for  Soo 
miles,  to  the  sources  of  the  Chinese  rivers  and  the  Burkhan- 
buddha  Mountains.  As  far  as  eye  could  reach,  it  ai^jjeared 
to  consist  of  a grass-grown  plateau  region  diversified  by  hills 
and  valleys,  with  snow-clad  mountains  in  the  distance.  Oc- 
casionally a shepherd’s  tent  was  .seen;  and  anteloj^es,  wild 
asses,  and  wild  sheep  abounded.  The  results  of  the  journey 
were  276  determinations  of  latitude,  the  mapifing  of  1200 
miles  of  unknown  country,  497  observations  for  altitude 
with  the  boiling-point  thermometer,  and  a series  of  meteoro- 
loijical  observations. 

Among  those  who  have  travelled  in  Eastern  Tibet  the 
Russian  Cieneral  Przhevalsky  (Prjevalsky)  ranks  first.  The 
17th  (29th)  November,  1870,  he  started  from  Kiakhta  with 
three  Russian  followers,  and  passed  through  the  Desert  of 
Gobi  by  way  of  Urga  and  Kalgan  to  Peking.  .After  a trip 
to  Dalai-nor,  he  left  Kalgan,  in  May,  1871,  and  travelled  west, 
through  the  mountain-chains  of  In-shan  and  Muni-ula,  then 
up  the  ATllow  River  (Hwang-ho)  until  he  reached  the  coun- 
try of  Ala-shan,  and  its  capital  I)yn-yuan-in.  He  afterwards 
returned  to  Kalgan.  Then,  after  a good  rest,  he  went  back 
to  Dyn-yuan-in,  where  we  find  him  in  June,  1872.  Here 
began  the  most  remarkable  part  of  his  travels,  the  country 
which  he  ne.xt  traversed  being  little  known.  He  first  ex- 
plored the  highlands  of  Kan-su,  a well -wooded  mountain 
region  lying  northeast  of  Koko-nor;  then,  having  made  the 
circuit  of  the  lake,  and  crossed  the  Southern  Range  of  Koko- 
nor,  the  expedition  reached  the  great  swamps  of  Tsaidam, 
whence  it  ascended  into  the  higher  regions  of  Tibet,  the 
home  of  the  wild  yak.  Several  of  the  mountain-chains  of 
the  Tibetan  highlands  were  crossed  on  the  wav  to  the  Yang- 
tse-kiang,  which  was  reached  on  January  loth  (2 2d),  1873. 
Although  it  was  Przhevalsky’s  intention  to  penetrate  as  far 
as  Lhasa,  which  he  approached  within  twenty-seven  days’ 
journey,  he  was  constrained  to  abandon  the  plan,  owing  to  his 
caravan  animals  becoming  exhausted  and  his  provisions  run- 
ning short.  Przhevalsky's  first  journey  terminated  at  Irkutsk 
in  Siberia,  at  which  place  he  arrived  on  October  8th,  1873. 


8 


THROUGH  ASIA 


For  three  years  the  expedition  had  struggled  against  diffi- 
culties which  seemed  almost  insurmountable;  had  defied  the 
summer  heat  of  the  Mongol  desert,  the  winter  cold  of  the 
Tibetan  highlands;  had  spent  months  in  a small,  frail  tent, 
often  at  a temperature  of  forty  degrees  below  zero  (Fahr.  and 
C.),  living  on  game  killed  by  members  of  the  expedition. 
The  energy  and  endurance  which  Przhevalsky  showed  are 
worthy  of  every  admiration.  It  is  evident  he  was  swayed  by 
a clear  understanding  of  the  great  importance  of  his  under- 
taking. Although  surrounded  by  a hostile  population,  and 
exposed  to  every  kind  of  danger,  he  disregarded  both,  and, 
amid  the  pestilential  smoke  from  the  argal  (dry  dung)  fire  in 
his  tent, went  on  working  out  his  memoranda  and  sorting  his 
collections.  It  was  a geographical  achievement  which  has 
rightly  placed  Przhevalsky’s  name  in  the  forefront  of  Asiatic 
exploration.  The  most  wonderful  thing  is  that  this  journey, 
which  amounted  to  7350  miles,  cost  very  little  more  than 
6000  roubles  (say  ^600),  a proof  that  it  is  possible  to  travel 
inexpensively  in  Asia,  if  you  only  know  how  to  set  about  it. 

Przhevalsky’s  second  journey  lasted  from  August,  1876,  to 
July,  1877.  Although  it  extended  to  less  than  2650  miles, 
the  cost  was  more  than  19,000  roubles  (or  about  ^1900);  but 
this  time  his  equipment  was  more  complete  and  his  escort 
more  numerous.  The  results  of  this  journey  also  were  of  ex- 
treme importance.  The  region  which  he  added  to  the  do- 
main of  geographical  knowledge  was  one  of  the  least  known 
in  Central  Asia.  Previously  our  sole  conceptions  of  its  nat- 
ure were  derived  from  hearsay,  from  Chinese  maps,  and  from 
tradition. 

P'rom  Kulja  his  route  led  through  the  Hi  valley  to  Vul- 
duz,  afterwards  south  by  way  of  Korla,  and,  along  the  lower 
Tarim,  to  Lop- nor  (Lob-nor)  and  the  Altyn-tagh.  When 
Przhevalsky  saw  that  it  was  impossible  to  reach  Tibet,  and 
particularly  Lhasa,  the  object  of  his  desire,  by  way  of  Lop- 
nor  and  the  desolate  region  south  of  the  Altyn-tagh,  he  de- 
termined to  try  what  he  could  do  by  way  of  Gutshen  and 
Khami ; but  he  was  taken  ill  on  the  road,  and  was  con- 
strained to  return  to  Russia. 


CENTRAL  ASIAN  EXPLORATION 


9 


The  crowning  feature  of  this  expedition  was  the  discovery 
of  the  new  Lop-nor,  and  of  the  great  chain  of  mountains 
Altyn-tagh,  which  has  so  greatly  altered  the  appearance  of 
our  maps  of  Central  Asia,  He  also  discovered  the  existence 
of  the  wild  camel,  a discovery  afterwards  confirmed  by  other 
travellers — viz.,  Carey,  Younghusband,  and  others. 

Przhevalsky’s  third  expedition  lasted  from  March,  1879,  to 
November,  1880,  and  covered  some  4750  miles.  On  this  oc- 
casion he  was  accompanied  by  twelve  natives,  and  had  a sum 
of  23,500  roubles  (.^2350)  at  his  disposal.  He  chose  Sai- 
sansk  on  the  Russian  frontier  as  a point  of  departure,  and 
travelled,  by  way  of  Bulun-tokhoi  and  the  Urungu  River, 
through  Dzungaria  to  Barkul,  and  thence  over  the  Tian-shan 
Mountains  to  Khami.  After  that  he  crossed  the  Desert  of 
Gobi,  touching  his  former  route  at  a couple  of  points.  This 
time  he  penetrated  much  farther  to  the  south — namely,  across 
the  Yang-tse-kiang  and  the  Tan-la  Mountains  as  far  as  32° 
N.  lat. 

Przhevalsky’s  fourth  and  last  journey  began  in  October, 
1883,  and  ended  in  the  same  month  two  years  later.  W'ith 
twenty  followers,  most  of  them  Cossacks,  he  accomplished  a 
distance  of  4850  miles;  the  cost  of  the  expedition  being  42,- 
250  roubles  (^4225). 

From  Kiakhta  he  crossed  the  Gobi  by  the  same  route  he 
had  taken  on  a previous  occasion,  and  went  on  farther  through 
the  highlands  of  Kan-su  as  far  as  the  two  lakes  of  Tsaring- 
nor  and  Oring-nor,  the  twin  sources  of  the  Hwang-ho.  This 
was  the  culminating- point  of  the  fourth  journey.  After  a 
deviation  to  the  Yang-tse-kiang,  he  continued  on  through 
Tsaidam,  thence  over  the  Altyn-tagh  to  Lop-nor  and  Khotan, 
at  the  northern  foot  of  the  Kwen-lun  Mountains,  and  finally 
down  the  Khotan-daria  and  over  the  Tian-shan  Mountains. 

The  extensive  journeys  in  1878-82  of  the  intrepid  Indian 
pundit  Krishna,  commonly  called  A — K,  were  of  the  great- 
est importance  for  the  geography  of  Northern  Tibet,  In 
the  spring  of  1878  he  was  ordered  by  the  Indian  Govern- 
ment to  explore  the  territory  bordered  on  the  north  by 
Przhevalsky’s  journeys,  on  the  east  by  the  routes  of  the 


lO 


THROUGH  ASIA 


French  missionaries  Desgoclins  and  Durand  and  of  the  Eng- 
lishman Gill,  on  the  south  by  the  Sang-po  (Brahmaputra 
River)  and  the  Himalayas,  and  on  the  west  by  the  meridian 
which  runs  through  Lhasa  and  Lop-nor.  In  more  recent 
years  this  region  has  only  been  crossed  by  Hue  and  Gabet, 
and  by  Bonvalot  and  Prince  Henry  of  Orleans. 

Disguised  as  a merchant,  and  provided  with  plenty  of 
money  and  instruments,  A — K went,  by  way  of  Sikkim,  to 
Lhasa,  reaching  that  city  in  September,  1878.  There  he 
stopped  for  a whole  year,  waiting  to  find  a large  and  well- 
armed  caravan  with  which  he  mis^ht  travel  northward,  as  the 
Tangut  robbers  make  the  roads  in  that  direction  very  unsafe. 
On  September  17th,  1879,  a Mongol  caravan  arrived.  A hun- 
dred of  its  members,  Mongols,  with  a few  Tibetans,  were  go- 
ing back  at  once.  All  were  mounted  and  all  armed  with 
spears,  swords,  and  fire-arms.  A — K seized  the  opportunity. 
Great  caution  was  observed  during  the  march  ; patrols  were 
sent  on  ahead,  and  a watch  kept  at  night.  The  route  which 
was  followed  at  first  coincided  with  that  of  Nain  Singh  in 
1875,  when  he  journeyed  from  Tengri-nor  to  Lhasa.  South 
of  Tan-la,  A — K touched  the  route  taken  by  Przhevalsky  on 
his  third  journey.  The  highest  pass  in  the  Tan-la,  16,400 
feet,  marked  the  water-shed  between  the  upper  Mekong  and 
the  Yang-tse-kiang.  After  five  months  on  the  plateau  he 
reached  the  Anghirtakshia  Mountains  over  a pass  15,750  feet 
in  altitude.  halt  was  made  at  d'enghelik  in  Tsaidam  ; but 
just  as  the  caravan  was  on  the  point  of  starting  again  it  was 
attacked  by  two  hundred  robbers,  who  relieved  — K of  all 
his  goods  and  baggage  animals.  He  managed,  however,  to 
retain  his  notes  and  instruments,  and  in  sj)ite  of  his  reverses 
determined  to  persevere  with  the  solution  of  the  prob- 
lems which  had  been  set  him.  He  wintered  on  the  western 
shore  of  the  Kurlyk-nor  until  March,  1880.  Thence  he  in- 
tended to  steer  his  course  towards  r.oi>nor;  but  his  Indian 
servant  deserted  him,  carrying  off  most  of  his  jiosscssions. 
I le  himself  was  obliged  to  take  service  with  a Mongol,  who 
was  going  to  .Sa-chow.  T'hcre  he  was  well  treated  by  a lama, 
but  was  compelled  by  the  Chinese  go\ernor  to  turn  back. 


CHXTRAL  ASIAX  EXPLORATION 


1 1 

This  turning-point  is  of  importance.  It  was  from  that  region 
Przhevalsky  made  his  journey  towards  Tsaidam  and  I'an-la 
in  1879-S0:  and  in  the  same  quarter  Count  Szechenyi’s  ex- 
pedition through  China  came  to  an  end.  With  one  faithful 
follower,  A — K started  on  his  return  journey,  but  was  again 
compelled  to  take  service  with  “ Chinese  Tatars.”  P'inally, 
however,  he  reached  Darchendo  (Tatsien-lu)  in  safety,  and  at 
the  mission-station  there  received  every  help  from  the  bishop: 
and  thence  returned  by  way  of  Hatang  and  Darjiling  to  India. 

In  188S-89  the  American  Rockhill  made  a journey  into 
Eastern  Tibet.  Startinij  from  Pekin"  with  onlv  one  follower 
and  a few  horses,  he  proceeded  to  the  Koko-nor  and  Alak- 
nor,  crossed  the  Vang-tse-kiang,  and  eventually  got  back  to 
Shanghai.  He  could  speak  Chinese  and  'I'ibetan,  and  trav- 
elled in  disguise.  He  did  some  first-rate  mapping,  measured 
heights,  made  notes,  and  says  that  previous  luiropean  maps 
are  incorrect  and  unreliable  in  respect  of  both  orography  and 
hydrography. 

Several  other  travellers,  induced  by  the  desire  for  research 
or  by  ambition,  have  of  late  undertaken  journeys  into  inner 
Tibet  and  towards  Lhasa.  Many  have  failed,  wliile  others 
can  show  good  results.  The  most  successful  expedition  was 
that  of  Honvalot  and  Prince  Henry  of  Orleans,  which  crossed 
Asia  from  northwest  to  southeast.  The  expedition  followed 
Przhevalskv’s  route  along  the  Tarim  as  far  as  the  Lop-nor 
and  the  Altyn-tagh.  On  November  17th,  1889,  they  set  out 
from  the  Lop-nor,  and  on  the  23d  crossed  the  Altyn-tagh, 
leaving  Przhevalsky's  and  Carey's  routes  behind  them.  They 
then  struck  a direct  course  to  the  south,  across  unknown 
country  and  without  guides.  This  march  lasted  till  P'ebru- 
ary  17th,  1890,  and  extended  to  two  days’  journey  south  of 
the  Tengri-nor.  The  Tibetan  plateau,  on  which  they  were 
travelling  for  three  months,  nowhere  falls  below  the  altitude 
of  thirteen  thousand  feet.  Some  of  the  mountain-chains  of 
the  Kwen-lun  system  were  crossed  by  passes  at  more  than 
18,000  feet  in  altitude,  and  numerous  lakes  were  discovered. 
The  country  was  barren  in  the  extreme,  totally  devoid  of 
trees  or  bushes ; it  did  not  even  provide  sufficient  provender 


THROUGH  ASIA 


I 2 

for  the  camels  and  horses  of  the  caravan,  which,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  fatigue,  the  privations,  and  the  severe  cold, 
gradually  died  off  until  very  few  were  left.  From  December 
4th  to  January  30th  not  a human  being  was  encountered. 
Two  days’  journey  south  of  the  Tengri-nor  the  expedition 
was  stopped  by  the  Tibetans,  and  in  spite  of  negotiations 
lasting  nearly  seven  weeks  it  failed  to  obtain  permission  to 
continue  its  march  to  Lhasa.  The  travellers  were  therefore 
obliged  to  make  a considerable  circuit,  and  reached  Tong- 
king  in  September. 

In  May,  1890,  the  Russian  Captain  Grombtchevsky  en- 
deavored to  penetrate  into  Western  Tibet  from  Polu,  but,  be- 
ing unsuccessful,  he  turned  aside  to  Khotan,  and  spent  July 
and  August  in  exploring  the  Tisnab  valley,  the  upper  Yar- 
kand-daria,  and  the  water-shed  between  these  two  rivers.  Af- 
ter a visit  to  the  Pamirs,  he  proceeded,  by  way  of  Kashgar, 
to  Tashkend  (Tashkent),  where  I met  him  at  the  end  of  the 
same  year.  He  had  covered  a distance  of  more  than  4700 
miles,  and  his  researches  form  a connecting  link  between 
those  of  Kuropatkin  (1877),  Forsyth  (1873-74),  Przhevalsky 
(1885),  and  Pievtsoff  (1889-90).  He  met  the  last-named  in 
Niya,  where  the  two  travellers  were  able  to  compare  notes 
and  place-determinations. 

In  1889  and  1890  General  Pievtsoff,  accompanied  by  Prz.he- 
valsky’s  companions,  Roborovsky  and  Kozloff,  and  by  the 
geologist  Bogdanovitch,  made  a journey  into  East  Turkestan, 
crossing  the  Tian-shan  Mountains,  proceeding  up  the  Yar- 
kand-daria  to  Yarkand,  thence  to  Khotan,  and  wintered  at 
Niya.  Prom  the  northern  foot  of  the  Kwen-lun  Mountains 
they  made  several  expeditions  on  to  the  Tibetan  plateau,  and 
explored,  in  particular,  that  part  of  it  which  lies  to  the  north 
of  the  Arka-tagh.  The  return  journey  was  by  way  of  the 
Lop-nor,  Karashahr,  and  Dzungaria.  Pievtsoff’s  journey  is 
one  of  the  most  important  that  has  been  undertaken  in  these 
parts,  and  no  traveller  has  made  such  reliable  place-determi- 
nations as  he. 

In  the  Altyn-tagh  and  the  tracts  south  of  them  Przheval- 
sky’s  route  in  his  fourth  journey  was  crossed  at  several  points 


CENTRAL  ASIAN  EXPLORATION 


I 


by  that  of  the  PZnglishman  Carey.  Accompanied  by  Dal- 
gleish,  who  was  afterwards  murdered,  Carey  crossed  the 
Altyn-tagh,  the  Chamen-tagh,  and  the  uninhabited  plateau 
between  these  two  ranges  of  mountains,  before  he  was  able 
to  reach  the  Kwen-lun  proper  and  the  Tibetan  highlands. 
He  passed  over  these  chains  at  a jjoint  rather  more  to  the 
west  than  that  chosen  by  Przhevalsky,  and  afterwards  inter- 
sected Przhevalsky’s  route  on  the  plateau  between  the  Cha- 
men-tagh and  the  Kwen-lun  Mountains.  Carey  afterwards 
proceeded  to  the  east  along  the  foot  of  the  Kwen-lun,  went 
a short  distance  between  this  range  and  the  Koko-shili,  and 
crossed  the  pilgrim  road  from  Mongolia  to  Lhasa  immedi- 
ately south  of  the  point  where  it  climbs  over  a pass  in  the 
Kwen-lun  Mountains.  At  the  river  Ma-chu  he  turned  north- 
ward and  traversed  a portion  of  A — K’s  route.  This  jour- 
ney took  place  in  1885-87. 

Captain  Younghusband,  whose  name  is  well  known  for 
his  travels  in  the  Pamirs,  travelled  in  1888  from  Peking,  via 
Barkul,  Ak-su,  and  Kashgar,  to  India;  and  Captain  Bower, 
between  June,  1891,  and  March,  1892,  crossed  Tibet  and 
China  from  Leh  to  Shanghai. 

The  expeditions  which  I have  here  summarized  are  the 
most  important  within  the  regions  which  I propose  to  visit. 

It  would  lead  me  too  far  were  I to  endeavor  to  render  an 
account  of  the  great  problems  that  still  await  solution  in  the 
interior  of  Asia.  The  discovery  of  new  chains  of  mountains, 
lakes,  and  rivers,  of  the  traces  of  an  ancient  civilization,  of 
antiquities  which  might  possibly  throw  light  on  the  great 
migrations  of  the  races  through  Asia,  the  identification  of  old, 
disused  caravan  roads,  and,  finally,  the  mapping  of  an  entirely 
unknown  region — all  this  possesses  an  irresistible  attraction 
for  the  explorer ; but  I can  only  touch  upon  one  or  two  ques- 
tions of  peculiar  interest. 

In  the  Asiatic  highlands  the  geologist  has  unique  oppor- 
tunities of  studying  phenomena  of  the  greatest  possible  in- 
terest, interesting  not  only  on  account  of  the  processes  of 
evolution  which  the  mountain-chains  are  actually  undergoing 
there,  but  also  for  the  reason  that  those  mountain-chains 


H 


THROUGH  ASIA 


themselves  are  so  little  known.  The  table-land  of  Tibet  rises 
like  an  enormous  platform  up  to  a mean  height  of  thirteen 
thousand  feet  above  the  lowlands  of  Hindustan  on  the  one 
side  and  the  desert  of  the  Tarim  basin  on  the  other,  the 
latter  being  one  of  the  lowest  depressions  in  the  interior  of 
any  continent.  Lake  Lop-nor  has  an  absolute  altitude  of 
not  more  than  two  thousand  five  hundred  feet,  and  at  Luk- 
tchin,  south  of  Turfan,  a depression  has  been  found  which 
actually  lies  a considerable  distance  below  the  lev'el  of  the 
sea.  On  the  side  next  the  Tarim  basin  the  Tibetan  high- 
lands are  bounded  by  the  Himalayas  and  the  Kwen-lun, 
whose  western  extremities  meet  in  the  Pamirs  and  the  re- 
gions south  of  it.  While  the  older  geographers  and  discov- 
erers bestowed  their  attention  upon  little  else  save  the  topo- 
graphical appearance,  or  at  most  the  surface  elevations,  of  a 
country,  modern  geographical  discovery  claims  from  its  sur- 
veyors reliable  knowledge  of  the  original  causes  of  the  pres- 
ent condition  of  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  the  genetic 
connection,  origin,  age,  and  relation  of  the  mountain-chains 
to  each  other.  There  are  important  questions  still  to  be 
solved  in  High  Asia  on  these  points,  and  a long  period  of 
time  must  necessarily  elapse  before  these  problems  can  be 
brought  within  measurable  distance  of  solution.  During  the 
last  twenty-five  years  only  four  geologists  of  standing  have 
devoted  any  attention  to  the  region  of  the  Kwen-lun  system — 
namely,  Stoliczka,  Von  Richthofen,  Loczy,  and  Bogdanovitch. 

But  vast  gaps  still  divide  the  regions  which  they  have 
severally  investigated.  It  is  my  intention  during  this  pro- 
jected journey  to  contribute  as  far  as  lies  in  my  power  to  the 
filling  in  of  these  gaps,  where  every  observation,  every  con- 
tour-line, is  of  the  utmost  value. 

Another  problem  of  intense  interest  is  the  Loj)-nor  ques- 
tion, which  was  raised  by  Baron  von  Richthofen.  I will 
mention  here  some  of  the  j)oints  set  forth  in  his  article  en- 
titled “ Bemerkungen  zu  den  Ergebnissen  von  Oberst-lieu- 
tenant  Prjewalski’s  Reise  nach  dem  Lop-noor  und  .\ltyn- 
tagh  ” {VcrhaniUiingeu  dcr  Gcs.  fiU'  KrcHaindc,  V.,  187S,  pp. 
\2  \ et  scqq). 


Cl£\TRAL  ASIAN  EXPLORATION 


‘5 


Marco  Polo  was  the  first  to  make  the  Lop  desert  known  to 
Liiropeans,  and  on  D’Anville’s  map  of  Asia  Lop-nor  with  its 
rivers  is  found  for  the  first  time,  thoinjfh  in  latitude  42°  20 
N.  Shortly  before  Przhevalsky’s  journey  the  lake  was  sup- 
posed to  be  situated  in  an  enormous  basin,  and  at  a greater 
distance  to  the  south  than  to  the  north  of  the  mountains  which 
bounded  it.  Przhevalsky,  however,  found  that  the  lake  lay 
much  farther  south  than  was  suppo.sed  from  the  maps  and 
Chinese  accounts,  and  the  result  of  this  and  his  other  expedi- 
tions was  that  the  maps  of  the  interior  of  Asia  came  to  j)re- 
sent  quite  a different  appearance  from  what  they  had  hereto- 
fore. The  territory  between  Korla  and  Altyn-tagh  was  quite 
unknown ; as  was  also  the  fact  that  the  lower  Tarim  ran  for 
such  a long  distance  in  a southeasterly  direction.  The  dis- 
covery of  the  .Altyn-tagh  possessed  equal  importance  as  a 
contribution  to  the  knowledge  of  the  physical  geography  of 
.Asia  as  for  the  comprehension  of  the  position  and  direction 
of  the  ancient  trading-routes.  It  now  became  clear  why  the 
ancient  silk  caravans  from  China  to  the  West  kept  so  near 
the  south  of  Lop-nor,  necessitating  their  passing  through  the 
much-dreaded  desert  between  Sa-chow  and  the  lake. 

Basing  his  deductions  partly  on  certain  geological  laws, 
and  partly  on  a large  map  of  China  and  Central  Asia  pub- 
lished in  Wu-chang-fu  in  1862,  Von  Richthofen  says: 

“ The  most  remarkable  thing  about  Przhevalsky's  Lop-nor 
is  that  he  discovered  a fresh-water  lake  where  we  are  con- 
strained to  assume  the  presence  of  salt  water.  It  is  an  ab- 
solute impossibility  that  a lake-basin,  which  for  a series  of 
geological  periods  has  acted  as  a reservoir  for  the  deposition 
of  salt  from  a great  river,  should  contain  fresh  water  and  be 
the  resort  of  fish.  This  would  be  inconceivable  even  though 
the  whole  course  of  the  Tarim  lay  through  regions  which  in 
the  general  estimation  were  quite  free  from  salt.  But  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  all  the  regions  whence  the  lake  gathers  its 
drainage  are  so  saline  that  fresh-water  springs  are  quite  an 
exception,  and  occur  only  close  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 
Now  the  water  of  the  Tarim  must  contain  a greater  quantity 
of  salt  than  almost  anv  other  large  river  in  the  world.  The 


i6 


THROUGH  ASIA 


concentration  of  these  saline  ingredients  by  evaporation  must 
take  place  to  a very  great  extent  in  the  last  reservoir  of  the 
Tarim,  and  the  continuation  of  the  process  from  time  im- 
memorial must  therefore  have  caused  an  unusually  large  de- 
posit of  every  kind  of  steppe  salt.  From  the  remotest  ages 
the  Chinese  have  called  Lop-nor  ‘ the  Salt  Lake.’  . . . Con- 
trary to  all  theoretical  conclusions  and  historical  accounts, 
we  now  have  from  the  first  European  eye-witness,  who  is 
furthermore  gifted  with  uncommon  powers  of  observation, 
the  distinct  assurance  that  the  last  basin  of  the  Tarim  is  a 
fresh-water  lake.  There  must  therefore  exist  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances to  account  for  this  apparent  contradiction.” 

It  might  perhaps  be  supposed  that  during  the  winter, 
when  the  ev^aporation  is  slight,  the  fresh  water  rises  and 
spreads  above  the  salt  water;  but  the  inconsiderable  depth 
of  the  lake  sufficiently  nullifies  this-  supposition.  Another 
explanation  is  that  the  Tarim,  which  often  changes  its 
channel,  has  abandoned  its  former  reservoir  in  favor  of 
another,  the  present  one,  which  is  supposed  to  be  of  com- 
paratively recent  formation. 

The  most  probable  explanation  is  that,  besides  the  two 
reservoirs  visited  by  Przhevalsky  (the  Kara-buran  and  Kara- 
kurchin — i.e.,  Kara-koshun),  there  is  yet  a third,  into  which  an 
arm  of  the  Tarim  debouches.  No  Chinese  map  shows  a 
southern  branch  of  the  Tarim,  but  a large  lake  is  indicated 
in  latitude  41°  N. — z>.,  in  the  direct  line  of  any  continuation 
of  the  Tarim — and  is  called  on  the  maps  Lop-nor.  The  cir- 
cumstance, among  other  things,  that  Przhevalsky  did  not  find 
the  name  of  Lop-nor  in  use  also  points  to  the  same  conclu- 
sion. On  the  other  hand,  he  did  hear  the  name  in  use  for 
that  part  of  the  Tarim  which  lies  east  of  where  the  real  Lop- 
nor  should  be. 

Another  important  argument  is  implicit  in  the  fact  that 
the  Tarim,  at  its  confluence  with  the  Ughen-daria,  has  a 
breadth  of  three  hundred  to  three  hundred  and  sixty  feet 
and  a strong  current;  but  below  the  junction  of  all  its  vari- 
ous tributaries  a breadth  of  only  one  hundred  and  eighty  to 
two  hundred  and  ten  feet,  and  a slow  current.  It  is  possible 


CENTRAL  ASIAN  EXPLORATION 


17 


that  when  Przhevalsky  jonrneyeci  among  these  tril)utaries, 
or  rather  anastomosing  arms,  the  most  easterly  branch  dis- 
charged a part  of  its  water  eastward  through  another  and 
separate  channel  into  the  inaccessible  salt  desert,  and  that 
the  traveller  overlooked  this  channel.  Von  Richthofen  con- 
cludes his  investigation  with  the  words,  “ 1 lowever  highly  we 
may  value  what  Przhevalsky  has  done  towards  the  explora- 
tion of  the  Lop-nor,  we  cannot  consider  that  the  jjroblem, 
for  the  sake  of  which  he  underwent  such  great  hardships,  is 
as  yet  definitively  solved.” 

The  three  expeditions  of  Carey  and  Dalgleish,  Bonvalot 
and  Prince  Henry  of  Orleans,  and  Pievtsoff,  each  of  which 
has  visited  Lop-nor  since  Pr/.hevalsky,  have  not  added  to 
our  knowledge  of  this  remarkable  lake,  for  the  reason  that 
they  all  followed  the  same  route  that  he  took. 

The  solution  of  the  Lop-nor  question  is  still  a desidera- 
tum for  all  who  are  interested  in  the  geography  of  .Asia.  The 
future  traveller  to  Lop-nor  must  not  content  himself  with 
proving  the  existence  of  the  basins  discovered  by  Przheval- 
sky ; he  must  make  a systematic  and  accurate  investigation 
of  the  districts  north  of  them  in  order  to  try  and  find  the 
lake  into  which  the  Tarim,  according  to  \A)n  Richthofen, 
empties  a portion  of  its  waters.  This  lake,  too,  is  marked  on 
the  Chinese  maps,  which  as  a rule  are  remarkable  for  their 
great  topographical  accuracy. 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  PLAN  AND  OBJECTS  OF  MY  JOURNEY 

For  several  years  I have  been  occupied  in  studying  the 
geography  of  Central  Asia,  partly  at  home  and  partly  at  the 
University  of  Berlin,  under  Baron  von  Richthofen,  the  cele- 
brated authority  on  Chinese  geography.  I have  also  pre- 
pared myself  by  two  journeys  to  Persia  and  Central  Asia,  in 
the  years  1885-86  and  1890-91  respectively,  the  latter  after 
the  conclusion  of  Your  Majesty’s  mission  to  Shah  Nasr-eddin 
of  Persia.  During  these  journeys  I had  the  opportunity  of 
becoming  accustomed  to  Asiatic  travel,  to  association  with 
tlie  natives,  and  of  learning  one  or  two  of  the  most  important 
languages.  In  the  hope  of  being  able  to  make  these  prepar- 
atory studies  of  use  in  the  cause  of  science,  I have  ventured 
to  seek  Your  Majesty’s  protection  and  support  for  the  e.xecu- 
tion  of  a scheme  which,  if  all  goes  well,  will  reflect  honor  on 
our  country  and  contribute  to  disperse  the  clouds  which  still 
rest  over  a great  part  of  Central  Asia.  An  e.xpedition  into 
that  part  of  the  world  which  was  the  cradle  of  the  Aryan  race, 
and  from  whose  dim  interior  the  Mongols  streamed  out  over 
the  whole  of  Asia  and  part  of  Europe,  and  where  there  is 
such  a host  of  geographical  questions  still  awaiting  solution, 
is  one  of  the  most  im[)ortant  undertakings  within  the  domain 
of  geographical  discovery.  Phe  object  of  my  prospective 
journey  is  to  traverse  Asia  from  west  to  east,  from  the  Cas- 
pian Sea  to  Peking,  and  in  particular  to  explore  the  interme- 
diate regions  which  arc  least  known. 

The  Swedish  expedition  should,  if  possible,  leave  Stock- 
holm in  the  month  of  May  of  the  present  year  (1893).  Its 
ecjuipment  should  be  completed  in  'Purkestan  and  Ladak, 
and  nothing  need  be  taken  from  .Stockholm  except  instru- 


PLAN  AND  UlijLCrS  OP'  MY  JOURNKY  19 


meats  and  fire-arms.  .Accompanied  by  one  assistant,  whose 
duty  it  would  be  to  take  astronomical  observations,  1 pro- 
pose to  travel  through  Russia  to  Baku,  across  the  Caspian 
Sea  to  Usun-ada,  and  thence  by  rail  to  Samarkand.  It  is 
my  intention  to  drive  through  West  Turkestan  in  a taran- 
tass  by  way  of  Tashkend,  Kokand,  Margelan,  and  Osh,  and 
thence  over  the  pass  of  Terek-davan — all  places  well  known 
to  me — to  Kashgar  in  Hast  Turkestan,  the  termination  of 
my  former  journey  in  1890-91.  In  Kashgar  I shall  hire  a 
horse  caravan  to  take  us,  by  way  of  Yarkand  and  the  Kara- 
korum pass,  to  Leh,  where  there  are  an  Hnglish  agent  and 
Hnglish  merchants.  'I'he  journey  to  Kashgar  will  take  two 
months  to  accomplish,  thence  to  Leh  one  month,  so  that,  if 
all  "oes  well,  the  beginning  of  August  should  .see  us  in  Leh. 

It  was  also  my  intention  originally,  from  the  region  around 
Lop-nor,  to  try  and  penetrate  over  the  Kwen-lun  Mountains 
into  Northern  Tibet.  But  in  December  of  last  year,  while 
on  a visit  to  St.  Petersburg,  I met  (icneral  Pievtsoff,  who  in 
1889-90  made  the  e.xpedition  previously  mentioned  into  East 
Purkestan.  General  Pievtsoff  advised  me  against  attemjDt- 
ing  to  carry  out  my  plan  along  the  lines  which  I then  un- 
folded to  him.  He  had  had  unfortunate  e.xperience  of  the 
difficulties  which  travellers  encounter  in  those  regions,  hav- 
ing endeavored  unsuccessfully  to  penetrate  into  the  country 
with  horses  and  camels.  Train  animals  perish  in  great  num- 
bers, owing  to  the  difficulties  of  the  country,  the  inclement 
weather,  the  rarefied  air,  and  the  almost  entire  absence  of  past- 
urage. General  Pievtsoff  advised  me  to  make  Leh,  in  Ladak, 
the  starting-point  for  my  proposed  expedition  into  Tibet. 
There  one  can  procure  not  only  the  necessary  provisions  and 
articles  essential  to  an  adequate  equipment — such  as  tents, 
saddles,  furs,  felt  carpets,  household  utensils,  boxes  for  col- 
lections, etc. — but  also  reliable  men,  nativ^es  of  the  adjacent 
provinces  of  Tibet.  Above  all,  he  told  me  that  tame  yaks 
were  also  procurable  at  Leh,  animals  to  which  the  rarefied 
atmosphere  is  natural,  and  which  find  their  way  with  incon- 
ceivable sureness  of  foot  in  places  which  seem  quite  impassa- 
ble. In  regions  which  to  all  appearance  are  absolutely  barren, 


20 


THROUGH  ASIA 


they  are  further  able  to  find  mosses  and  lichens,  which  they 
lick  from  the  rocks.  The  expedition  will  require  a caravan 
of  fifteen  yaks,  and  an  escort  of  six  well-armed  natives. 

According  to  Pievtsoff,  the  autumn  is  the  best  time  of  year 
for  travelling  in  Northern  Tibet.  The  expedition  ought 
therefore  to  leave  Leh  in  the  middle  of  August,  and  strike 
an  east-southeasterly  line  towards  the  lake  Tengri-nor,  about 
the  same  direction  as  that  taken  by  the  pundit  Nain  Singh 
in  1874.  Somewhere  north  of  Tengri-nor,  in  an  uninhabited 
tract,  I propose  to  encamp,  and,  disguised  and  accompanied 
by  one  or  two  followers,  endeavor  to  penetrate  to  Lhasa, 
returning  thence  to  the  chief  encampment  at  Tengri-nor. 
This  somewhat  adventurous  method  of  trying  to  enter  the 
capital  of  Tibet  I shall  naturally  not  resort  to  unless  circum- 
stances are  favorable  and  the  reaching  of  Lhasa  seems  likely 
to  prove  of  undoubted  value  in  the  interests  of  geography. 
From  Tengri-nor  we  shall  strike  through  Tibet  and  endeavor 
to  reach  East  Turkestan  over  the  Kwen-lun  Mountains;  the 
town  of  Cherchen  would  then  be  our  nearest  s^oal.  And 
there  we  ought  to  arrive  in  February  of  next  year. 

After  exchanging  the  yaks  for  camels,  we  shall  proceed 
northward  through  an  entirely  unknown  part  of  the  Desert 
of  Gobi,  until  we  reach  the  course  of  the  river  Tarim.  In 
the  desert  there  are  no  roads  and  no  springs,  nothing  but 
barren,  moving  sand-hills.  The  inhabitants  of  the  Niya 
oasis  on  its  southern  confines,  however,  told  Przhevalsky 
that  in  the  winter  it  is  possible  to  traverse  the  desert,  for 
there  are  in  that  season  occasional  falls  of  snow,  which  ren- 
der it  possible  to  procure  water.  It  is  my  intention  to  study 
the  aspect  of  this  desert  and  the  movements  of  its  sand-hills. 

We  shall  then  follow  the  east  bank  of  the  Tarim  in  order 
to  discover  whether  the  river  does  or  does  not  send  off  a 
branch  to  the  east,  so  as  to  form  a lake  in  41°  N.  lat.,  to  the 
north  of  Pr/.hevalsky’s  Loj)-nor.  The  investigation  of  the 
Lop-nor  ])roblem  should  be  comj)leted  by  June,  1894,  and 
our  expedition  will  then  have  acc()m|)lished  its  most  impor- 
tant as  well  as  its  most  difficult  objects. 

h'rom  Loj)-nor  we  shall  steer  a direct  course  to  the  east 


PLAN  AND  OHJLCrS  OF  MY  J0URNP:Y 


2 1 

and  proceed  through  the  unknown  portion  of  the  desert 
known  as  Kuni-tagh  ; then  go  on  by  way  of  Su-ehow  (Su- 
chau)  to  Ala-shan,  where  we  ought  to  discover  inscrij)tions 
and  memorials  of  the  earliest  times  of  the  Uigurs;  then 
across  the  Yellow  River,  through  Ordos,  where  we  shall 
keep  north  of  the  (ireat  Wall,  and  finally  through  the  two 
northern  j)rovinces  of  China,  Shan -si  and  Pe-chi-li,  to  Pe- 
king, where  we  ought  to  arrive  in  November,  1S94. 

It  is  easier  to  devise  a scheme  of  this  character  at  one’s 
writing-table  than  it  is  to  carry  it  out.  My  i)rogramme  must 
therefore  be  regarded  as  the  ideal  which  I shall  endeavor  to 
attain.  If  the  whole  plan  cannot  be  realized,  still  I will  hope 
that  at  least  I may  have  strength  and  energy  to  execute  a 
considerable  portion  of  it.  It  is  evident,  especially  in  a land 
so  little  known  as  Tibet,  that  it  is  impossible  to  determine 
on  a particular  route  beforehand,  as  unforeseen  circumstances 
must  inevitably  arise,  and  perhaps  necessitate  a radical  change 
in  any  predetermined  scheme. 

In  Peking  the  expedition  may  be  regarded  as  at  an  end. 
I'rom  that  city  I shall  send  my  Swedish  companion  home 
with  the  collections,  notes,  and  general  results.  Should  my 
funds  hold  out,  I shall  probably  seize  the  o])portunity  to 
make  acquaintance  with  southern  Mongolia  and  the  Desert 
of  Gobi  proper.  I propose,  therefore,  to  return  home  by  way 
of  Khami  and  Turfan,  as  in  any  case  I should  be  responsible 
for  the  safe  return  of  my  followers  to  their  own  country. 

The  expedition,  starting  from  Osh,  in  P'ergana,  where  Rus- 
sian means  of  communication  cease  and  caravans  have  to  be 
resorted  to,  will,  I reckon,  cover  a distance  of  about  5300 
miles.  The  cost  of  the  whole  expedition  I estimate  at  about 
30,000  kronor  (^1670). 

The  scientific  work  which  should  be  done  may  be  com- 
prised under  the  following  heads: 

I.  The  construction  of  a topographical  map  of  the  entire 
route  traversed.  The  determination  of  geographical  latitudes 
and  longitudes  wherever  possible.  The  determination  of  fixed 
altitudes  with  the  hypsometer  or  boiling-point  thermometer 
and  three  aneroids,  and  the  indication  of  them  on  the  map. 


22 


THROUGH  ASIA 


2.  Geological  investigations,  the  sketching  of  profiles  and 
contours,  and  the  collection  of  petrological  specimens. 

3.  Anthropological  researches  and  measurements  among 
the  peoples  we  come  in  contact  with.  The  photographing  of 
various  racial  types.  Study  of  the  religious  beliefs  of  the 
semi-savage  tribes,  and  their  mode  of  living,  etc.  Linguistic 
studies. 

4.  Archaeological  researches.  The  description,  measure- 
ment, and  sketching  of  the  ruins  of  noteworthy  towns,  burial- 
places,  etc. 

5.  The  photographing  of  towns,  places  of  geological  in- 
terest, etc. 

6.  Meteorological  observations.  Periodical  determinations 
of  the  temperature  of  the  atmosphere  of  the  earth,  and  of  river 
and  lake  water;  ascertaining  the  amount  of  moisture  in  the 
atmosphere,  the  direction  of  the  winds,  etc. 

7.  Hydrographical  investigations.  The  depth  of  lakes,  the 
volume  of  water  in  the  rivers,  together  with  their  variations 
at  the  different  seasons  of  the  year,  the  velocity  of  currents, 
their  direction,  etc. 

8.  The  collection  of  plants,  ])articularly  alga?. 

9.  The  keeping  of  a diary  during  the  entire  period  of  the 
expedition. 

This  was  the  scheme  which  I laid  before  the  King,  and 
which  was  stamj^ed  with  his  approval.  Now  that  my  work 
is  at  an  end,  and  I am.  able  to  compare  the  journey  I planned 
with  the  real  journey  I carried  through,  I congratulate  my- 
self that  on  the  whole  the  two  routes  coincided  fairly  well 
across  blast  Turkestan,  Tibet,  and  Mongolia,  although  there 
were  noteworthy  deviations,  caused  by  the  course  of  events. 
In  the  first  jdace,  the  route  1 actually  followed  was  much 
longer  than  the  one  ]?rojected,  and  included  regions  which  I 
at  first  considered  altogether  inaccessible,  b'urthermore,  I 
altered  my  ])lans  at  the  very  outset,  and  instead  of  crossing 
over  the  Cas])ian  Sea,  which  I already  knew  well,  I went 
from  Orenburg  through  the  Kirghiz  ste])j?e.  1 he  Pamirs, 
which  were  not  included  in  my  original  programme,  became 


PLAN  AM)  OBJECTS  OF  MY  jOL’RNBlV  23 


the  object  of  three  extended  excursions,  during  which  the 
eastern,  or  Chinese  Pamirs,  in  jrarticular,  were  explored  in 
many  directions.  The  Takla-makan,  the  great  western  exten- 
sion of  the  Desert  of  (iobi,  was  crossed  in  two  directions; 
and  there  I had  the  great  satisfaction  of  making  imirortant 
archaeological  discoveries.  I'inally,  I made  several  expeditions 
into  the  country  between  Kashgar,  .Ak-su,  and  Khotan. 

After  the  expedition  through  the  desert  to  the  Tarim  and 
Lojr-nor,  and  back  again  to  Khotan,  there  only  remained  one 
of  the  chief  objects  of  the  programme — namely,  Tibet — unac- 
complished. Phen  I heard  of  Dutreuil  de  Rhins’s  and  Lit- 
tledale’s  expeditions  to  pretty  nearly  the  same  parts  as  those 
I intended  to  visit,  and  that  both  had  tried  to  reach  Lhasa 
and  failed.  I therefore  thought  it  would  be  better  to  work 
those  parts  of  Northern  Tibet  which  were  still  a comj)lete 
terra  incognita.  Everywhere  there,  with  the  exception  of  the 
point  where  I should  intersect  Bonxalot  and  Prince  Henry 
of  Orleans’s  route,  I should  be  the  first  European  pioneer, 
and  e\ery  step  would  be  an  accession  of  geographical  terri- 
tory, every  mountain,  lake,  and  river  a discovery. 

After  I had  successfully  accomplished  this  undertaking, 
although  not  without  great  difficulty,  instead  of  following 
the  route  I had  mapped  through  Mongolia  to  ETga,  1 pre- 
ferred to  strike  a more  southerlv  line — namelv,  through  Tsai- 
dam,  the  country  of  the  Tanguts,  the  territory  of  Koko-nor, 
and  the  province  of  Kan-su,  where,  on  several  occasions,  I 
could  not  help  following  or  crossing  the  routes  of  other 
travellers.  In  Ala  - shan  I chose  a route  which  had  not 
hitherto  been  travelled  over,  and  it  was  not  until  I reached 
Ordos,  Shan -si,  and  Pe-chi-li  that  I entered  regions  which 
have  long  been  well  known.  Between  Peking  and  Kiakhta 
I travelled  through  Mongolia  proper,  and  afterwards  hastened 
homeward  through  Siberia. 

Of  other  discrepancies  between  my  original  plan  and  my 
journey  as  actually  carried  out,  I will  only  mention  that  at 
the  last  moment  I decided  to  go  alone.  This  was  partly  for 
the  sake  of  economy,  and  partly  because  I did  not  like  the 
idea  of  being  involved  in  dangers  and  hardships,  which  I 


24 


THROUGH  ASIA 


could  endure  myself,  but  in  which  a companion  might  not 
have  cared  to  risk  his  life. 

Moreover,  instead  of  making  one  continuous  journey,  as  I 
had  originally  intended,  I found  it  advisable  to  break  it  Uj:) 
into  several  expeditions.  This  was  rendered  possible  through 
the  boundless  hospitality  shown  me  by  the  Russian  Consul- 
General  in  Kashgar,  Mr.  Petrovsky.  He  has  since  been 
specially  honored  by  the  King  of  Sweden  and  Norway  for 
his  invaluable  services  to  my  undertaking. 

After  crossing  the  Pamirs  in  the  winter  and  spring  of 
1894,  I employed  the  summer  and  autumn  for  a new  expe- 
dition into  the  east  and  middle  Pamirs,  Kashgar  being  my 
point  of  departure.  In  the  spring  and  summer  of  1895  I 
traversed  the  Takla-makan  Desert  and  the  north  of  East 
Turkestan;  and  finally,  in  the  summer  and  autumn  of  the 
same  year,  I made  a third  excursion  into  the  southern  Pamirs. 
In  the  same  way  I subsequently  made  Khotan  a new  base 
of  operations,  leaving  there  in  the  beginning  of  1896  for 
my  long  journey  round  East  Turkestan  to  Lop-nor.  It  was 
only  when  I left  Khotan  in  the  end  of  June,  1896,  that  I 
really  burned  my  boats  behind  me,  cutting  off  every  con- 
nection with  the  West  until  I reached  the  extreme  East — 
Peking.  This  arrangement  made  the  journey  longer  both 
as  regards  distance  and  time;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  re- 
sults were  much  greater,  and  after  each  expedition,  thanks  to 
the  Russian  post,  I was  able  to  send  home  my  collections. 
I do  not  think  I am  wanting  in  modesty  if  I say  that  I now 
look  back  with  satisfaction  on  the  many  important  geo- 
grajihical  discoveries  made  during  this  journey,  and  on  the 
solution  of  problems  which  had  long  been  the  subject  of 
controversy  among  geog’rajihers. 

Phe  breaking-u])  of  my  journey  into  several  shorter  ex- 
peditions was  a hai)py  thought.  .After  each  such  expedition 
I was  able  to  rest,  and  recover  streniith  necessarv  for  a new 
campaign.  I also  worked  out  the  results  of  my  journey 
provisionally,  and  prejiared  for  the  w(.rk  awaiting  me  during 
my  next  exjiedition  ; and  each  time  I started  off  with  new 
interests  and  new  j)oints  of  view. 


PLAN  AND  OHJI^:CTS  OF  MY  JOURNEY  25 


In  this  account  of  my  travels  I have  aimed  to  clci)ict  the 
reminiscences  and  imiiressions  which  I gathered  during  my 
long  and  lonely  wanderings  in  the  heart  of  Asia.  It  is  clear 
that  the  results  of  a journey  which  occupied  three  and  a 
half  years  are  too  voluminous  to  be  com})rised  in  a single 
book ; and  I have  thought  it  wiser  to  separate  the  scientific 
data  from  matter  which  is  of  more  general  interest.  I j)ro- 
pose,  therefore,  to  give  a description  of  the  journey,  the 
countries  I passed  through,  the  peoples  with  which  I came 
into  contact,  and  the  adventures  I and  my  men  e.xperienced 
in  unknown  and  uninhabited  regions.  The  scientific  results, 
which  recjuire  a longer  time  for  their  working-out,  and  which 
are  of  more  special  interest,  will  be  published  separately  at 
some  future  date. 

Thanks  to  King  Oscar’s  protection  and  generous  aid,  I 
had  no  difficulty  in  raising  the  30,000  kronor,  or  ^1670,  I re- 
quired. More  than  half  the  sum  was  given  by  the  King,  the 
Nobel  family,  and  friends  of  geography  in  Gothenburg 
through  Mr.  Westin.  The  other  half  was  contributed  by 
Baron  Akerhielm,  a former  minister  of  state,  and  Messrs.  E. 
Cederlund,  Treschow,  Andersson,  J.  Backstrom,  C.  von 
Platen,  Carl  Lamm,  Sager,  and  Davidsson,  and  Mrs.  Emma 
Benedicks  and  Mrs.  Clara  Scharp. 

Five  of  these  are  no  longer  living ; but  to  the  others  I 
desire  to  take  this  opportunity  of  e.xpressing  my  sincerest 
thanks. 

On  my  arrival  at  Peking  I was,  however,  obliged  to  bor- 
row 4000  kronor,  or  about  ^220;  so  that  the  cost  of  the  en- 
tire journey,  instruments  and  equipment  included,  amounted 
to  34,000  kronor,  or  rather  less  than  ^1900. 

Among  other  contributions  I must  mention  a Husqvarna 
double-barrelled  rifle  from  Mr.  \V.  Tamm,  an  express  car- 
bine from  Consul-General  J.  \V.  Smitt,  an  aluminium  crani- 
ometer  from  Professor  G.  Retzius,  and  an  artificial  horizon 
from  Baron  Nordenskiold. 

My  luggage  from  Stockholm  was  not  very  great,  as  the 
bulkier  part  of  my  outfit  was  to  be  obtained  in  Asia.  I had 
the  following  instruments  : a prismatic  circle  (Wegener)  with 


1 


26  THROUGH  ASIA 

two  horizons,  two  chronometers  (one  Frodsham  from  the 
Royal  Academy  of  Science  in  Stockholm,  and  one  Wdren 
from  the  observatory  in  Tashkend),  three  French  aneroids,  a 
number  of  thermometers  and  other  meteorological  instru- 

o 

ments  from  Fuess  in  Berlin,  among  them  black-bulb  insu- 
lation thermometers,  psychrometers,  spring  thermometers, 
maximum  and  minimum  thermometers.  I also  took  with 
me  a plane  - table  with  stand,  together  with  compasses,  a 
camera  by  Watson,  and  a kodak  by  Eastman,  with  a com- 
plete supply  of  films  and  plates,  chemicals,  and  other  neces- 
saries. Furthermore,  I took  two  ordinary  watches,  a field- 
glass,  and  a small  aluminium  telescope ; about  forty  pairs  of 
glasses  and  snow  - spectacles ; finally,  geologists’  hammers, 
metre  measures,  a water-color  box,  drawing  materials,  and  a 
number  of  sketch-books  and  note-books,  etc. 

My  weapons  consisted  throughout  the  entire  journey  of 
the  two  above  - mentioned  rifles,  a Russian  Berdan  rifle,  a 
Swedish  officer’s  revolver,  and  half  a dozen  other  revolvers, 
and  two  cases  of  ammunition. 

The  library  was  naturally  reduced  to  the  smallest  possible 
compass,  and  consisted  only  of  a few  important  scientific 
books  and  the  Bible.  On  the  other  hand,  I took  with  me  a 
very  complete  collection  of  itineraries  laid  down  during  the 
last  ten  years  in  the  interior  of  Asia;  and  also  Russian  and 
English  survey  maps  of  the  Pamirs,  maps  of  the  Desert  of 
Gobi  and  of  Tibet. 

'riius  equipped,  and  provided  with  a Chinese  passport,  I 
left  my  dear  old  home  in  Stockholm  on  October  i6th,  1893; 
and  on  board  the  l^ou  Dodcln  steamed  eastward  towards  my 
unknown  fate. 

It  was  a cold,  dark,  autumn  evening,  such  as  I shall  never 
forget;  hea\'y  rain-clouds  hung  over  the  city  of  .Stockholm, 
and  her  lights  soon  vanished  from  sight.  More  than  a 
thousand  and  one  nights  of  loneliness  and  longing  were  be- 
fore me;  everything  I held  dear  was  behind  me.  Yet  that 
first  night  was  the  bitterest  of  all  ; I never  suffered  so  much 
from  homesickness  again. 

(Duly  those  who  have  left  their  country  for  a lengthened 


FLAX  AXD  0HJF:CTS  OF  MY  JOURNEY 


27 

period,  and  with  the  clouds  of  uncertainty  before  them,  can 
conceive  the  feelings  which  such  a break  occasions.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  whole  wide  world  was  before  me,  and 
I determined  to  do  all  that  lay  in  my  jiower  to  solve  the 
problems  which  I had  set  myself. 


CHAPTER  III 


ACROSS  RUSSIA  TO  ORENBURG 

An  unbroken  railway  journey  of  1400  miles,  the  distance 
which  separates  Orenburg  from  St.  Petersburg,  is  hardly  an 
unmixed  pleasure.  Still  less  is  it  so  at  a period  of  the  year 
when  rain,  snow,  and  wind  take  away  all  desire  on  the  part  of 
the  traveller  to  while  away  the  time  of  waiting  by  promenad- 
ing the  platform  ; while  smoky  or  overheated  stoves  make  it 
unpleasant  to  remain  in  the  carriage. 

The  four  days  and  nights  which  it  takes  to  cross  Euro- 
pean Russia  in  this  manner  are,  however,  neither  long  nor 
dull.  After  leaving  Moscow  there  is  always  plenty  of  room 
in  the  train.  You  can  arrange  your  corner  of  the  carriage 
as  comfortably  as  circumstances  will  allow,  and  let  your  gaze 
wander  away  over  the  endless  fields  and  steppes  of  Russia. 
You  may  smoke  your  pipe  in  perfect  peace,  drink  a glass  of 
hot  tea  now  and  then,  trace  the  progress  of  your  journey  on 
a map,  watch  how  one  government  succeeds  another,  and 
while  away  the  time  generally  in  conversation.  In  the 
dominions  of  the  Tsar  it  is  considered  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  for  every  one  to  address  his  fellow-passengers. 
If  no  other  pretext  presents  itself,  you  may  always  begin  a 
conversation  by  asking  your  neighbor’s  destination.  My  fel- 
low-travellers, in  most  cases,  were  going  to  j)laces  in  the  go\-- 
ernments  of  Ryazan,  Penza,  and  Samara.  When  they  asked 
me,  in  return,  where  I was  going,  and  were  told  in  answer 
“ Peking,”  they  were  not  a little  surprised,  and  often  were 
not  quite  clear  where  the  place  was. 

landless  stei)i)cs,  arable  land,  bearded  peasants  with  fur 
caps  and  long  coats,  white  churches  with  green  onion-shai)cd 
domes  and  surrounded  by  rustic  houses,  wind-milks,  which 


ACROSS  RUSSIA  TO  ORKXI^UR(; 


29 


now,  at  any  rate,  had  no  need  to  complain  of  want  of  wind 
these  were  the  chief  objects  to  be  seen  from  the  carriage  win- 
dows. Hour  after  hour,  day  after  day,  the  same  picture  was 
unrolled  before  our  eyes.  'I'he  only  tract  of  forest  we  jiassed 
through  was  in  the  east  of  Tamboff,  but  the  trees  were  all  low, 
except  an  occasional  pine,  which  lifted  its  head  above  the  rest. 

On  we  hastened  eastward  through  the  governments  of 
Ryazan,  Tamboff,  Penza,  Saratoff,  and  Simbirsk,  until  at  last 
we  reached  the  greatest  river  in  Europe.  W'e  crossed  it  at 
Syzran  by  one  of  the  longest  bridges  in  the  world,  1625 
yards  in  length.  The  Volga  resembled  a large  lake  rather 
than  a river.  The  opposite  bank  was  lost  in  the  mist;  the 
muddy,  brownish-gray  masses  of  water  rolled  sluggishly  on 
under  the  vast  span  of  the  railway  bridge,  every  whit  as  life- 
less as  the  landscape  through  which  they  flowed,  d'wo  or 
three  rowing-boats  and  a paddle-steamer  moored  to  the  bank 
were  the  only  signs  of  life  we  saw.  Then  on  again  we  were 
whirled  across  the  never-ending  steppe.  On  the  boundary 
between  the  governments  of  Samara  and  Orenburg  we  began 
to  detect  signs  of  the  proximity  of  the  southwestern  exten- 
sion of  the  Urals.  The  country  became  more  broken,  and 
the  railway  often  curved  in  and  out  between  the  hills.  I"or 
considerable  distances  the  line  was  bordered  by  wooden  pal- 
ings intended  to  protect  it  from  the  snow.  The  farther  east 
we  travelled  the  more  desolate  became  the  landscape.  We 
never  saw  human  beings  except  at  the  stations.  The  steppe 
was  occasionally  dotted  with  herds  of  cattle,  sheep,  and  goats. 
The  sky  was  gray  and  dull ; and  the  fields  had  the  yellow 
tint  of  faded  grass.  Such  were  the  border-lands  between 
Piurope  and  Asia. 

At  the  end  of  four  days  of  railway  travelling  I arrived, 
considerably  shaken  and  jolted,  at  the  important  town  of 
Orenburg,  situated  near  the  point  where  the  Sakmar  joins 
the  river  Ural.  The  town  was  not  veiy  interesting.  Its  low 
stone  houses  are  arranged  in  broad  streets,  unpaved  and  full 
of  choking  dust,  and  overtopped  by  neat  churches,  of  which 
the  still  unfinished  Kazansky  sobor  (Kazan  cathedral)  is  the 
largest. 


30 


THROUGH  ASIA 


The  outskirts  of  the  town,  however,  were  not  destitute  of 
artistic  sights;  for  there  the  Tatars  and  Kirghiz  held  their 
mart,  partly  in  the  open  air,  partly  in  low  wooden  sheds.  In 
one  place  were  sold  all  kinds  of  carts  and  conveyances,  tele- 
gas and  tarantasses,  brought  the  most  part  from  Ufa;  in  an- 
other, vast  quantities  of  hay,  piled  up  on  carts,  drawn  by 
teams  of  four  Bactrian  camels;  in  another,  horses,  cattle. 


A STRr:ET  IN  ORENRURO 


sheep,  fowl,  geese,  turkeys,  and  various  other  live-stock.  Of 
the  56,000  inhabitants  of  Orenburg,  8000  were  Mohammedans, 
the  greater  number  being  Tatars,  the  rest  Bashkirs  and  Kir- 
ghiz.  The  principal  incsjid  (mosque)  of  the  'I'atars  was  par- 
ticularly beautiful,  having  been  built  at  the  e.xpense  of  a rich 
merchant.  Among  the  Mohammedans  there  were  a number 
of  merchants  from  Khiva  and  Bokhara,  who  sold  cotton  im- 
ported from  Central  Asia. 

In  time  of  war  Orenburg  furnishes  eighteen,  and  in  time 
of  peace  si.\,  Cossack  regiments  of  a thousand  men  each, 
d'he  regiments  take  it  in  turn  to  serve,  so  that  in  time  of 
jieace  each  six  regiments  serve  for  three  years.  .Sometimes 
the  men  of  the  other  twelve  till  the  land  which  the  Crown 


ACROSS  RUSSIA  TO  ORUNBURCi 


31 


irrants  them  in  exchaiiire  for  their  services.  As  a rule,  the 
government  [provides  them  with  nothing  more  than  a rifle  ; 
horse  and  uniform  they  have  to  furnish  themselves.  The  si.x 
regiments  on  service  are  usually  quartered  at  Tashkend, 
Margelan,  Petro-Alexandrovsk,  Kieff,  Wkarsaw,  and  Kharkoff. 
d'he  Cossacks  of  Orenburg  always  amount  to  a considerable 
force,  and  are  onlv  exceeded  in  numbers  bv  the  Cossacks  of 
the  Don,  and  by  the  Kuban  Cossacks.  The  Ural  Cossacks, 
at  the  time  of  my  visit,  had  only  three  regiments  on  duty,  one 
in  Samarkand  and  two  on  the  Austrian  frontier.  'I'he  men 
are  well-to-do,  as  they  own  the  exclusive  right  of  fishing  in 
the  lower  Ural  River,  while  above  their  chief  town,  Uralsk, 
they  have  built  dams  to  prevent  the  sturgeon  from  going  up 
to  Orenburg.  The  Cossacks’  chief  bears  the  title  of  “ Ata- 
man.” The  Ataman  of  the  Orenburg  Cossacks  was  at  that 
time  General  Yershoff,  the  governor  of  Orenburg. 

In  conclusion,  if  I add  that  Orenburg  is  situated  on  the 
threshold  of  Asia,  at  the  extreme  east  of  Russia;  that  it  can 
boast  of  barracks,  a hospital,  a poor-house,  schools,  and  hotels, 
of  which  the  best  was  significantly  called  “ Europe”;  that  it 
has  a theatre,  in  which  the  plays  of  Turgenieff  and  Ibsen 
have  the  best  “runs”;  that  it  is  the  seat  of  the  governor  and 
vice-governor  of  the  government  of  Orenburg,  and  that  the 
military  governor  of  the  province  of  Turgai  (between  the 
Ural  River  and  Lake  Aral)  also  resides  there,  I think  I 
have  mentioned  all  that  is  of  importance  with  regard  to  this 
town. 

Its  climate  is  essentially  continental.  In  summer  the  heat 
is  dry,  close,  and  oppressive,  and  the  atmosphere  is  filled  with 
dust.  In  winter  the  thermometer  often  falls  forty  degrees, 
Fahr.,  below  zero;  the  cold,  however,  is  not  particularly  no- 
ticeable, as  the  atmosphere  is  usually  still.  From  time  to 
time  snow-storms  choke  the  streets,  and  as  the  snow,  which 
falls  in  vast  c[uantities,  is  not  cleared  away  with  any  great 
expedition,  it  is  often  impossible  to  go  out  for  a whole  day  at 
a time.  But,  the  bulk  of  the  snow  removed,  the  sledging  is 
perfect ; the  handsome  black  horses  trot  briskly  along  the 
streets,  their  bells  jingling,  and  the  sledge  gliding  easily  over 


32 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  surface.  During  spring  and  autumn  the  climate  is  very 
variable,  and  when  the  thaw  sets  in  the  streets  become  verita- 
ble swamps. 

The  distance  between  St.  Petersburg  and  Orenburg  is 
1400  miles,  and  between  Orenburg  and  Tashkend  1300  miles, 
so  that  I now  had  before  me  a drive  nearly  as  long  as  the 
four  days’  railway  journey.  Thirteen  hundred  miles  in  a 
tarantass,  in  the  month  of  November,  across  steppes  and 
wastes,  over  roads  probably  as  hard  as  paving-stones,  or  else 
a slough  of  mud,  or  impassable  from  snow! 

I did  not  look  forward  to  the  prospect  of  driving  a distance 
farther  than  from  Stockholm  to  Rome,  or  than  from  Berlin  to 
Algiers;  but  I had  already  (1890-91)  made  the  railway  jour- 
ney to  Samarcand,  and  wished  to  take  this  opportunity  of 
seeing  the  boundless  Kirghiz  steppes  and  the  Kirghiz  Kara- 
kum  Desert  (the  Black  Sand)  in  order  to  compare  it  with 
the  desert  of  the  same  name  in  the  Transcaspian  region. 

It  is  possible  for  those  who  prefer  it  to  travel  by  the  post. 
But  this  means  a change  of  conveyance  at  every  station  ; and 
as  there  are  ninety-six  stations,  the  inconvenience  and  waste 
of  time  caused  by  the  repeated  unstrapping  and  rearranging 
of  one’s  luggage  may  easily  be  imagined.  It  is  better  to  buy 
your  own  tarantass  at  the  beginning  of  the  journey,  stow 
away  your  baggage  once  for  all,  stuff  the  bottom  of  the  con- 
veyance with  hay,  and  make  it  as  comfortable  and  soft  as 
possible  with  cushions  and  furs  — a tarantass  has  neither 
sj)rings  nor  seats — and  only  change  horses  at  the  stations. 

Before  starting,  a stock  of  necessary  articles,  notably  j)ro- 
visions,  has  to  be  laid  in,  for  as  a rule  nothing  eatable  is  to 
be  obtained  at  the  stations.  On  payment  of  fifteen  kopeks 
(kopek  — the  traveller  may  demand  the  use  of  a samovar, 
and  sometimes  a piece  of  black  bread  may  be  bought.  In 
addition  to  provisions,  you  should  always  be  jn'ovided  with 
rope,  twine,  nails,  screws,  etc.,  so  that  you  may  be  able  to  re- 
pair any  damage  that  may  hapjien  to  the  ec|uipage,  and,  last 
but  not  least,  cart  grease,  for  at  every  third  station  the  proc- 
ess of  greasing  the  wheels  has  to  be  gone  through.  Uj)on 
cpiitting  Orenburg  you  leave  behind  every  trace  of  civiliza- 


ACROSS  RUSSIA  TO  ORENBURG 


tion  : you  plunge  into  tracts  of  absolute  desolation,  and  are 
entirely  dependent  upon  yourself. 

B'or  the  first  i8o  miles  we  were  still  on  European  soil, 
through  the  government  of  Orenburg;  the  ne.xt  330  lay 
through  the  province  of  Turgai,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
distance  through  the  province  of  Syr-daria,  alongside  Eake 
.Aral  and  the  Jaxartes  or  Syr-daria  (river),  d'he  road  i)assed 
through  six  small  towns — namely,  Orsk,  Irghiz,  Kazalinsk, 
Perovsk,  Turkestan,  and  Chimkent — and  many  villages;  but 
as  a rule  the  white-painted  station-houses,  with  their  scpiare 
court-yards  for  horses  and  vehicles,  stood  quite  isolated  in 
the  desert,  their  nearest  neighbor  being  probably  a Kirghiz 
winter  anl  (tent-village).  In  the  heart  of  the  steppe  some  of 
the  stations  were  primitive  in  the  extreme,  the  station-house 
being  merely  a Kirghiz  jjv/r/  (tent),  surrounded  by  a hedge  of 
rushes  laced  through  branches  of  trees.  But  even  these,  like 
the  rooms  in  the  better  stations,  were  embellished  by  a jDor- 
trait  of  the  d'sar,  as  well  as  jjrovided  with  a leather  sofa, 
chairs,  and  a table.  In  one  corner  hung  an  i/con  (sacred 
image),  with  its  censer,  and  there  was  a Testament  on  the 
table  for  the  edification  of  the  traveller.  Every  station  be- 
tween Orenburg  and  Orsk  possessed  a copy  of  the  Bible,  pre- 
sented by  the  great  traveller  Przhevalsky. 

The  master  of  the  posting  - station,  staresta  or  starshina, 
also  called  piser,  or  clerk,  is  always  a Russian,  and  spends  his 
life  with  his  family  in  a state  of  terrible  loneliness  and  isola- 
tion. The  only  break  in  their  solitary  existence  is  the  ad- 
vent of  the  post-courier,  or  when  soine  traveller  comes  rolling 
along  in  his  tarantass.  But  this  touch  with  the  outer  world 
is  short-lived.  The  traveller’s  one  thought  is  to  get  awav 
from  the  lonely  house  as  quickly  as  possible.  He  orders 
fresh  horses,  drinks  his  glass  of  tea  while  they  are  being  put 
to,  and  hastens  away  as  fast  as  he  can  drive.  The  staresta 
receives  from  one  hundred  and  fifty  (^15)  to  two  hundred 
and  eighty  (£28)  roubles  a year  in  salary,  and  has  under  him 
iour  yamshtchiks,  or  drivers,  nearly  always  Tatars  or  Kirghiz. 
Neither  is  their  lot  to  be  envied  ; for  they  have  to  be  ready 
to  climb  into  their  seats  in  all  weathers  and  at  all  times,  and 
3 


34 


THROUGH  ASIA 


drive  tlieir  troika  (team  of  three  horses)  over  the  same  road, 
which  in  rain  or  darkness,  in  scorching  heat  or  wind,  in  cold 
and  snow,  they  have  traversed  a thousand  times  before. 
They  undoubtedly  have  a habit  of  dropping  asleep  as  soon  as 
they  get  well  started  ; but  in  so  doing  they  only  follow  the 
example  of  their  passengers,  and  it  is  easy  to  forgive  them. 
Each  yamshtchik  receives  from  sixty  (^6)  to  sixty -five 
roubles  (^6  lOi'.)  a year,  and  a monthly  allowance  of  fifty-four 
pounds  avoirdupois  of  bread,  and  half  a sheep.  Provisions, 
and  everything  else  that  may  be  wanted  at  the  station,  are 
brought  at  intervals  by  a special  messenger,  whose  chief  oc- 
cupation it  is  to  travel  up  and  down  the  whole  long  line  of 
posting-stations. 

The  whole  of  the  posting -road  between  Orenburg  and 
Tashkend  is  private  property.  No  gosudarstvcnny  shor,  or 
“ fee  to  the  Crown,”  is  paid  at  any  of  the  stations  between 
Orenburg  and  Orsk,  for  the  station-masters  own  their  own 
horses  and  vehicles.  P'or  a part  of  the  road  between  Tokan 
and  Terekli,  which  is  owned  by  a merchant  of  Orenburg, 
Miakinoff  by  name,  a fee  to  the  Crown  of  ten  kopeks  {gld) 
per  horse  is  demanded  for  each  stage.  Payment  of  the  en- 
tire distance  to  Terekli  is  made  in  Tokan.  From  Terekli  to 
Tashkend  a merchant  named  Ivanoff,  belonging  to  the  latter 
place,  is  the  owner  of  the  post-road.  He  pays  the  station- 
masters  and  yamshtchiks,  and  provides  horses  and  vehicles, 
receiving  payment  for  the  entire  distance  at  either  of  the  ter- 
minal stations. 

Everywhere  I went  jjeople  talked  of  the  good  old  times 
when  this  road  was  the  only  road  leading  to  Russian  Turkes- 
tan ; when  numbers  of  travellers  were  continually  going  back- 
ward and  forward  ; and  when  every  station  had  its  nine  or 
ten  troikas  (some  thirty  horses),  (ieneral  Skobeleff’s  cam- 
paign against  the  'rurkomans,  and  .Annenkoff’s  railway  to 
Samarcand,  introduced  a new  order  of  things.  The  mail-post 
to  Tashkend,  and  the  large  majority  of  travellers  prefer  the 
new  route,  because  it  is  shorter,  cheaper,  and  more  conven- 
ient, and  the  days  of  the  old  posting-road  through  the  Kirghiz 
ste]:)pc  are  numbered.  Travellers  are  now  a rarity.  1 he 


ACROSS  RUSSIA  TO  ORENBURG 


35 


towns  have  lost  both  in  importance  and  size.  The  once 
flourishing  vehicular  traffic  between  Turkestan  and  Russia 
has  been  diverted  to  other  routes.  The  caravans  which  car- 
ried cotton  and  wool  to  Orenburg  have  grown  fewer  and 
fewer.  The  local  post,  combined  with  jiolitical  and  strategi- 
cal interests,  alone  prevents  this  road  from  becoming  entirely 
disused. 

Durintr  mv  short  stav  in  Orenburg  the  vice-governor, 
Cieneral  Lomachevsky,  placed  at  my  disposal  an  honest  old 
chinovuik,  Solovioff  by  name,  who  had  seen  forty-five  years’ 
service  in  the  town.  W ith  his  help  I was  able  to  procure 
everything  1 recjuired  both  well  and  cheaply.  I bought  a 
perfectly  new  tarantass,  roomy  and  strong,  and  provided  with 
thick  iron  rims  round  the  wheels,  for  seventy-five  roubles 
{£"]  los.) ; I subsequently  sold  it  in  Margelan  for  fifty  (^5). 
It  was  an  easy  matter  to  stow  myself  and  my  luggage  (about 
six  cwt.)  away  in  it ; and  for  nineteen  days  and  nights  with- 
out a break  it  was  my  only  habitatitm. 


CHAPTER  IV 


ACROSS  THE  KIRGHIZ  STEPPES 

On  November  14th  a buran  (snow-storm),  the  first  of  the 
winter,  raged  in  Orenburg,  and  the  thermometer  at  mid-day 
sank  to  21.2°  Fahr.  ( — 6°  C.).  As  everything  was  ready,  how- 
ever, I did  not  postpone  my  departure.  My  trunks  and  am- 
munition-cases were  all  sewn  up  in  matting,  and  lashed  with 
strong  rope  on  the  back  of  the  tarantass  and  in  front  of  the 
driver’s  seat.  Bags  which  were  likely  to  be  in  constant  use, 
cameras,  and  boxes  of  provisions,  together  with  carpets,  cush- 
ions, and  furs  were  all  crammed  inside.  The  wheels  were 
well  greased,  and  the  first  troika  of  horses  harnessed.  It 
was,  however,  evening  before  everything  was  quite  ready  for 
a start.  General  Lomachevsky  and  the  inmates  of  the  hotel 
kindly  bade  me  God  - speed.  The  heavy  carriage  rolled 
through  the  gates  of  the  court-yard,  and  its  jingling  bells  be- 
gan to  echo  merrily  through  the  streets  of  Orenburg.  Be- 
fore dark  we  reached  the  edge  of  the  barren  steppe.  The 
wind  howled  and  whistled  round  the  hood  of  the  carriage, 
and  drove  clouds  of  powdery  snow  in  our  faces.  By  degrees, 
however,  the  wind  went  down,  and  the  stars  came  out  and 
lighted  up  the  thin  mantle  of  snow  with  which  the  whole 
country  was  covered. 

In  Neshinka  I was  overtaken  by  the  post,  which  goes  to 
'rashkend  twice  a week.  As  it  only  conveys  the  local  mails, 
there  were  but  two  troikas;  the  mail-bags,  however,  weighed 
in  the  aggregate  between  16  and  17  cwt.  The  first  |)ostilion 
only  goes  as  far  as  Orsk.  P'rom  that  |)lace  another  courier 
conveys  the  ]K)st  to  Irghi/,,  a third  takes  it  to  Kazalinsk,  a 
fourth  to  Perovsk,  a fifth  to  Purkestan,  and  the  last  to  Tash- 
kend.  \Vc  joined  comj)any  as  far  as  Orsk,  and  shortly  after- 


ACROSS  THK  KIRCiHIZ  STEPPES 


'j  ^ 

wards  our  three  heavily  laden  troikas  set  off  from  the  station- 
house.  The  road  to  Kamenaya  Osernaya  was  hilly  and 
heavy,  but  later  on  the  country  became  leveller,  the  snow- 
storm abated,  and  the  road  was  often  bare.  On  the  way  to 
Gherial  we  met  the  first  wayfarers  we  had  fallen  in  with — 
namely,  a caravan  of  a hundred  camels  or  so,  conveying  bales 
of  cotton  from  Orsk  to  Orenburg.  The  train  with  its  Kir- 
ghiz attendants  made  a very  picturesque  aj)pearance  in  the 
desolate  landscape.  About  this  time  the  axle  of  one  of  the 
post-telegas  came  to  grief,  and  the  vehicle  had  to  be  left  be- 
hind. My  luggage,  too,  owing  to  the  incessant  chafing  and 
shaking,  got  loose,  and  had  to  be  refastened.  I'he  sky  was 
cloudy:  it  was  blowing,  but  not  snowing.  The  temperature 
was  27.5“  b'ahr.  (—2.5°  C.).  'I'he  river  Ural  was  not  yet  visi- 
ble, but  we  crossed  several  of  its  tributaries  by  means  of  small 
wooden  bridges.  There  were  numerous  small  stanitsas  (forts) 
in  the  neighborhood,  garrisoned  by  Orenburg  Cossacks. 

At  Krasnogornaya,  which  we  reached  at  daybreak,  we 
stopped  for  breakfast.  The  postilion,  a stalwart,  shaggy  old 
Russian,  bemoaned  that  it  was  a fast  day,  when  all  fiesh,  with 
the  exception  of  fish,  is  forbidden.  Great,  therefore,  was  his 
surprise  and  delight  when  I offered  him  a tin  of  j^reserved 
sturgeon.  He  made  alarmingly  short  work  of  it,  and  con- 
sumed eleven  glasses  of  tea  in  a quarter  of  an  hour.  He  told 
me  that  during  the  past  twenty  years  he  had  made  the  journey 
to  and  fro  between  Orenburg  and  Orsk  (175  miles)  thirty-five 
times  a year — that  is  to  say,  a distance  which  exceeds  the 
space  between  the  earth  and  the  moon  by  more  than  six  thou- 
sand miles. 

In  \Trkhne  Osernaya,  a large  village,  with  a church  in  the 
middle,  prettily  situated  near  a ravine,  the  women  were  offer- 
ing for  sale  shawls  woven  of  goats’  wool.  They  resembled 
Kashmir  shawls,  and  could  be  pulled  through  a ring. 

Steppes!  Nothing  but  steppes,  though  there  were  moun- 
tains in  the  distance.  The  road  follows  the  frozen,  snow- 
sheeted  river  Ural.  Except  for  an  occasional  Kirghiz  yurt 
(tent),  the  landscape  was  desolate  in  the  extreme,  and  the  dis- 
tances between  the  stations  long.  But  the  incessant  jolting 


THROUGH  ASIA 


3« 

ov'er  the  hard-frozen  ground  and  the  monotonous  jingling  of 
the  horses’  bells  had  a somnolent  effect,  and  time  after  time 
I dropped  off  to  sleep. 

At  Podgornaya  the  country  became  more  broken.  Our 
next  stopping-place  was  in  the  Guberla  Mountains.  There 


MY  TARAXTASS  WITH  A TROIKA  (TEAM  OF  THREE  HORSES) 


I took  a four-in-hand  [chcivorka)  and  drove  Uj)  hill  and  down 
dale,  twice  crossing  the  broad  river  Guberla.  Along  this 
stage  an  accident  once  happened  to  a Russian  officer,  his 
driver  being  killed  ; since  then  railings  have  been  j)ut  up  at 
all  the  more  dangerous  iilaces. 

At  some  of  the  better  stations  we  met  great  droves  of 
cattle,  chiefly  o.xen,  being  driven  to  Oreubui-g,  and  thence 
farther  on  into  Russia.  .After  fortv-eight  hours'  travelling 
we  eventually  reached  Orsk,  a place  of  20,000  inhabitants, 
situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river  Ural  and  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Or.  It  stands  therefore  on  .\siatic  ground,  and 


ACROSS  THE  KIRCilllZ  STEPPES 


39 


is  entered  bv  a narrow  wooden  bridge  thrown  across  tlie 
majestic  stream  of  the  river  Ural.  The  houses  cluster  round 
an  isolated  and  commanding  hill,  crowned  by  a cloch-tower, 
from  which  a watch  is  kept  at  night  in  case  of  fire.  The 
view  is  very  extensive.  Low  mountains  are  visible  in  the 
vicinity.  The  country  is  only  flat  towards  the  southwest, 
where  runs  the  road  towards  Tashkend.  The  sobor  (gov- 
ernor’s house),  institutions  and  schools,  post,  telegraj)h,  and 
bazaars  are  situated  between  the  river  Ural  and  the  hill; 
there,  too,  the  merchants  and  burghers  have  their  houses. 
On  the  south  side  of  the  hill  dwell  the  jjoorer  classes,  the 
peasantry,  Tatars,  and  Kirghiz. 

It  was  intended  to  erect  the  chief  church  of  the  town  on 
the  top  of  the  hill,  and  the  foundations  are  even  partially 
laid;  but  the  necessary  funds  were  not  forthcoming,  and  the 
work  was  discontinued.  The  church  would  have  been  visi- 
ble for  many  a mile  in  both  Europe  and  Asia. 

During  the  spring  the  Ural  rises  to  a great  height,  and 
sometimes  inundates  the  lower  parts  of  Orsk,  as  well  as 
forms  vast  lakes  in  the  vicinity.  The  inhabitants  then  climb 
their  hill  to  admire  the  transformation  of  the  stejjpe  into  a 
sea.  When  the  ice  begins  to  melt  in  the  spring  it  destroys 
the  bridge,  which  is  simply  built  on  poles,  so  that  it  has  to 
be  rebuilt  every  year.  At  such  times  the  post  is  carried 
across  the  river  in  boats. 

Between  the  river  Ural,  the  Caspian  Sea,  Lake  Aral,  the 
Syr-daria,  and  the  Irtysh  stretches  the  vast  level  of  the 
Kirghiz  steppe.  Thinly  inhabited  by  Kirghiz  nomads,  the 
steppe  is  also  the  home  of  a few  species  of  animals,  such 
as  wolves,  foxes,  antelopes,  hares,  etc.,  and  there,  too,  cer- 
tain prickly  steppe  plants  struggle  against  the  inclement 
conditions  of  the  region.  Where  there  is  sufficient  moist- 
ure, kamish,ox  reeds,  grow  in  great  quantities;  and  even  the 
driest  sandy  wastes  are  diversified  by  the  tufted  bushes  of 
the  saksaul  {Anabasis  ammodeudron),  often  attaining  six  or 
seven  feet  in  height.  The  roots,  which  are  excessix'ely  hard, 
provide  the  chief  fuel  of  the  Kirghiz,  and  are  collected  dur- 
ing the  autumn  for  winter  use.  At  nearly  every  aid  (tent- 


40 


THROUGH  ASIA 


village)  you  see  big  stacks  of  them,  and  we  frequently  met 
large  caravans  conveying  nothing  else. 

Every  now  and  then  the  steppe  was  traversed  by  water- 
courses, although  at  this  season  of  the  year  they  were  gener- 
ally dry.  They  ran  into  small  salt  lakes,  on  whose  shores  in- 
numerable birds  of  passage  congregate  in  spring  and  autumn. 
It  is  by  the  side  of  these  streams  that  the  Kirghiz  pitch  their 
auls,  consisting  of  black  tents  {uy)  and  sheds  made  of  kamish. 
Their  winter  auls,  on  the  other  hand,  are  huts  built  of  clay  or 
earth.  In  the  summer  they  move  northward,  with  tlieir  herds 
of  cattle,  to  escape  the  oppressive  heat,  and  to  find  pasturage 
which  is  not  scorched  up  by  the  sun.  Many  Kirghiz  own  as 
many  as  3000  head  of  sheep  and  500  horses,  and  are  then 
considered  to  be  in  very  good  circumstances.  The  winters 
in  northern  Turgai  are  bitterly  cold.  During  the  months  of 
January  and  February  snow-storms  rage  with  unmitigated 
violence;  the  Kirghiz  then  seek  their  old  winter  settlements, 
and  protect  the  sheep  in  pens  hedged  round  with  reeds.  In 
a word,  the  climate  is  typically  continental. 

The  Kirghiz  are  a half-savage  people,  but  capable,  healthy, 
and  good-natured.  They  love  to  call  themselves  Kaisa/c — /.  c., 
brave  fis^htino;  men — are  content  with  their  lonelv  life  on  the 
steppes,  worship  freedom,  recognize  no  authority,  and  despise 
those  who  live  in  towns  or  labor  at  agriculture.  In  the 
struggle  for  e.xistence  their  lot  is  a hard  one.  d'heir  herds 
are  their  chief  means  of  subsistence,  providing  them  with 
food  and  clothing.  The  scanty  vegetation  and  the  soil  itself 
furnish  materials  for  their  dw'ellings.  The  long,  o;lowing 
roots  of  the  saksaul  protect  them  against  the  cold  of  winter. 
Their  language  is  not  very  rich  ; when  they  talk  together 
they  eke  out  mutual  comprehension  by  very  vivacious  gest- 
ures. They  cherish  a devoted  love  for  their  desolate  stej)pe, 
where  their  forefathers  lived  the  life  of  freedom,  and  find  it 
beautiful  and  varied,  although  the  stranger  seeks  in  vain  for 
an  object  on  which  to  rest  his  eye.  It  is  true  that,  like  the 
sea,  the  steppe  is  grand  and  imj^ressive ; but  it  is  utterly 
monotonous  and  melancholy.  I flrove  across  it,  day  in,  day 
out,  at  a giddy  sj)eed ; but  the  landscape  always  remained  the 


ACROSS  THK  KIRGHIZ  STKPPKS 


41 


same.  The  tarantass  was  always  the  centre  of  a vast  ex- 
panse without  boundary  or  horizon,  so  \'ast  indeed  that  it 
seemed  almost  j)ossible  to  discern  the  globular  shape  of  the 
earth.  Sj^ring  is  the  only  season  in  which  it  can  afford  the 
stranger  any  pleasure  to  visit  these  regions.  T he  air  is  then 
perfumed  with  the  delicious  scent  of  flowers  ; for  vegetation 
develops  with  incredible  rapidity,  in  order  to  make  the  most 
of  the  short  space  of  time  before  the  burning  sun  of  summer 
comes  to  .scorch  everything  up. 

As  might  be  supjx)sed  from  the  physical  conditions  of  the 
region  in  which  they  live,  the  sense  of  locality  and  power  of 


KIRGHIZ  CAMEL-RIDER  OX  THE  STEPPES 


vision  displayed  by  the  Kirghiz  are  developed  to  a high  de- 
gree of  keenness  and  exactitude.  In  a country  across  which 
the  stranger  may  travel  for  days  and  days  without,  so  far  as 
he  can  perceive,  anything  to  vary  its  uniform  flatness,  and 
across  which  there  is  not  the  slightest  indication  of  a road, 
the  Kirghiz  finds  his  way,  even  at  night,  with  unerring  cer- 
tainty. Nor  do  the  heavenly  bodies  serve  him  as  a guide. 
He  recognizes  every  plant,  every  stone  ; he  notices  the  places 


I 


42 


THROUGH  ASIA 


where  the  tufts  of  grass  grow  more  thinly  or  more  closely  to- 
gether than  usual.  He  observes  irregularities  in  the  surface 
which  a European  could  not  discover  without  an  instrument. 
He  can  discriminate  the  color  of  a horse  on  the  horizon  Ions: 
before  the  stranger,  with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  is  even 
able  to  discover  its  presence;  and  he  can  tell  whether  a cart, 
which  when  seen  through  a field-glass  appears  to  be  a mere 
dot  in  the  distance,  is  advancing  or  receding. 

At  Orsk  my  vehicle  was  well  greased,  the  baggage  re- 
stowed, and  I again  crept  into  my  moving  domicile.  The 
driver  whistled  to  his  horses ; the  troika  set  off  with  light- 
ning speed  southward,  and  — farewell  to  Europe!  At  the 
first  station,  Tokan,  I paid  forty-four  roubles  (^4  Sj".)  to  de- 
fray the  cost  of  the  entire  journey  of  320  miles  to  Juluz; 
after  that  I had  only  to  show  the  receipt.  Between  Oren- 
burg and  Orsk  (175  miles;  thirty-four  roubles,  or  Ss.) 
each  stage  was  paid  for  separately. 

Erom  Orsk  the  posting-road  followed  the  right  bank  of  the 
river  Or,  through  an  almost  imperceptibly  diversified  country, 
to  the  station  of  Buguti-sai,  near  which  there  was  a Kirghiz 
village.  The  inhabitants  did  not  seem  to  be  ])articularly 
charmed  by  my  visit,  as  I had  my  two  cameras  with  me. 
They  kept  asking  me  if  the  bigger  one  was  a gun ; and 
nothing  would  induce  them  to  group  themselves  in  front  of 
it.  I did,  however,  succeed  in  getting  some  of  them  to  sit  to 
the  smaller  one. 

After  a long  rest  at  Buguti-sai,  we  finally  left  the  valley  of 
the  Or.  The  moon  threw  a silvery  glamour  over  the  lonely 
stejjpe,  sheeted  here  and  there  with  snow,  but  there  were 
neither  peojde  nor  settlements  to  be  seen,  d'he  silence  was 
unbroken  except  by  the  sound  of  the  horses’  bells,  the  shouts 
of  the  driver,  and  the  crunching  of  the  snow  as  the  wheels  of 
my  heavy  tarantass  ])ounded  over  it. 

'I'he  station-houses  were  all  exactly  alike — plain  wooden 
houses,  generally  j)aintcd  red,  with  a flight  of  stejis  in  the 
middle  of  the  front  wall,  leading  up  to  the  in-incijxal  door. 
On  one  side  of  the  stei)s  was  a jjole  for  a lantern,  and  on  the 
other  a sign-j)ost  giving  the  distances  to  the  two  nearest 


ACROSS  THH  KIRGHIZ  STHFFKS 


43 


stations.  From  the  entrance  - j^assage  you  passed  into  the 
station-master’s  room  on  the  right,  and  on  the  left  into 
the  parlor  for  travellers.  The  latter  was  furnished  with  two 
sofas,  two  tables,  a mirror,  a good  many  chairs,  and  a large 
stove,  in  which  the  dried  roots  of  the  steppe  jdants  were  always 
burning.  The  fuel  was  kept  piled  up  by  the  side  of  enormous 
hay-stacks,  a short  distance  from  the  house.  In  the  large 
square  yard  at  the  back  were  a number  of  carts  and  sledges ; 
and  there  also  were  the  stables  and  a room  for  the  drivers. 

At  the  station  of  Tamdi  I rested  for  some  hours  during 
the  night,  and  in  the  morning  saw  on  the  ice  of  the  Tamdi 
stream  the  tracks  of  a number  of  wolves,  which  had  been 
bold  enough  to  enter  the  yard  and  steal  three  of  the  staresta’s 
geese.  The  thermometer  showed  4.1°  F'ahr.  (-  15.5°  C.),  and 
the  thin  snow  crackled  under  the  wheels  of  the  tarantass 
when  we  drove  off  in  the  earlv  morning.  Every  blade  of 
grass  was  feathered  with  hoar-frost,  and  it  was  bitterly  cold. 

The  first  Russian  “ town  ” we  passed  on  Asiatic  soil  was 
Kara-butak,  which,  like  Rome,  is  built  on  seven  hills,  though 


THE  “ TOWN  ” OF  KARA-BUTAK 


44 


THROUGH  ASIA 


it  is  somewhat  smaller  than  the  latter,  as  it  only  consists  of 
thirty-three  houses,  inhabited  by  thirty  odd  Russians,  about  a 
hundred  Tatars,  and  a few  Kirghiz.  The  only  claim  which 
Kara-butak  possesses  to  notice  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  a 
small  fort,  erected  twenty-five  years  ago  by  General  Obru- 
tcheff,  to  keep  in  check  the  Kirghiz,  who  were  then  harrying 
the  Russian  frontier.  The  vayenny  natyalnik,  or  commandant, 
in  command  of  eighty-four  men,  told  me  that  his  life  there 
was  no  better  than  transportation,  and  that  he  could  not  en- 
dure it  for  longer  than  one  year.  His  only  distractions  were 
reading,  shooting  - matches  with  the  soldiers,  and  sport.  It 
had  been  very  different  in  the  days  when  there  was  a daily 
post.  There  were  several  large  Kirghiz  settlements  in  the 
vicinity,  and  several  others  all  the  way  to  Irghiz,  but  south 
of  that  place  they  became  rarer  and  rarer,  until  they  ceased 
altogether  on  the  border  of  the  Desert  of  Kara-kum. 

The  road  to  Irghiz  ran  for  the  most  part  close  beside  the 
Irghiz  River,  at  that  time  of  the  year  almost  dried  up.  W'e 
crossed  it  between  the  stations  of  Kum-sai  and  Kara-sai. 
On  we  went  day  and  night  across  the  monotonous  stejDpe, 
drawn  by  the  swift  jDost-horses.  By  this  time  I had  become 
so  used  to  travelling  in  a tarantass  that  I found  no  difficulty 
in  sleeping  at  night,  rolled  up  in  my  rugs  and  furs  at  the 
bottom  of  the  vehicle,  and  only  awoke  when  we  suddenly 
pulled  up  before  a new  station-house.  Having  shown  my 
receipt  to  the  staresta,  and  put  to  fresh  horses,  we  were 
soon  on  the  road  again.  An  awakening  of  this  kind  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  with  the  thermometer  only  5°  Fahr. 
above  zero  (—15°  C.),  is  anything  but  exhilai'ating ; you  are 
stiff  and  bruised  and  sleepy,  and  long  for  a glass  of  tea.  At 
last  the  sun  rises  above  the  horizon,  floods  the  steppe  with 
its  golden  rays,  melting  the  rinie-frost  which  during  the  night 
has  decked  the  grass  with  its  delicate  white  down,  and  driving 
the  wolves  from  the  jiosting-road. 

A few  more  stations  and  we  reached  Irghiz,  standing  on  an 
eminence  overlooking  the  river  of  the  same  name,  west  of  the 
point  where  it  runs  into  the  salt  lake  Chalkartenis.  Irghiz  is 
a tikrcplcnyc  (fort),  and  its  commandant  a uyasdny  )iatyaluiL\ 


ACROSS  THK  KIRCililZ  STKPI^KS 


45 


or  chief  administrative  officer  of  the  district.  I he  place  has 
a small  church,  and  about  a thousand  inhabitants,  including 
the  srarrison  of  a hundred  and  fifty  men,  of  whom  seventy 

O ^ r \ * 

were  Orenburg;  Cossacks.  The  greater  number  of  the  in- 
habitants  were  Sart  merchants,  who  come  there  periodically 


H.XRXESSIXG  A TROIKA 

to  barter  with  the  Kirghiz.  They  bring  their  wares  from 
Orenburg,  Moscow,  and  Nizhni  - Novgorod.  Irghiz  was 
founded  in  1848  by  the  Russians,  and,  like  Kara-butak  and 
Turgai,  is  entirely  Russian.  It  was  one  of  the  forts  erected 
immediately  after  the  occupation  of  the  steppe,  in  1845,  for 
the  pacification  of  the  Kirghiz.  At  first  the  whole  of  the 
steppe  region  was  subject  to  the  governor-general  of  Oren- 
burg, but  afterwards  was  divided  between  the  provinces  of 
Turgai  and  Syr-daria,  at  the  same  time  that  Ordenburg 
was  made  a “government.”  Before  the  Russian  occupa- 
tion Irghiz  was  called  Yar-mollah  (the  Holy  Grave  on  the 
Terrace),  and  was  merely  an  unimportant  Kirghiz  burial- 


46 


THROUGH  ASIA 


place  and  resort  for  pilgrims.  After  the  Russian  conquest 
of  Turkestan,  tliis  place,  like  others  in  the  same  region,  in- 
creased in  importance,  and  the  larger  caravans  began  to  make 
it  a halting-place.  Fewer  caravans  visit  it  now;  still  there 
were  some  lying  outside  the  village.  The  reason  why  we 
never  met  with  them  on  the  posting-road  was  that  they  take 
shorter  and  quicker  routes.  The  trafific  with  the  Kirghiz 
flourishes  more  particularly  at  Troitsk  and  Uralsk,  for  it  is 
in  the  neighborhood  of  these  towns  that  the  richest  nomad 
auls  e.xist. 

Off  we  went  again  with  our  four-in-hand.  The  sun  set 
about  five  o’clock ; and  as  he  lingered  for  a moment,  like  a 
fiery  cannon-ball,  on  the  distant  horizon,  a subdued  purple 
radiance  was  diffused  across  the  steppe.  At  that  hour  tli.e 
light  produced  very  extraordinary  effects.  Having  nothing 
with  which  to  make  comparisons,  you  are  liable  to  fall  into 
the  strangest  blunders  with  regard  to  size  and  distance.  A 
couple  of  inoffensive  crows  hobnobbing  together  a short  dis- 
tance from  the  road  appeared  as  large  as  camels,  and  a tuft 
of  steppe  grass,  not  more  than  a foot  in  height,  looked  as  big 
as  a vigorous  tree.  After  the  sun  disappeared,  the  purple 
tints  changed  to  violet  and  light  blue;  and  in  a few  minutes 
these  gave  place  to  still  darker  shades,  which  finally  merged 
into  the  darkness  of  the  night.  The  night,  however,  did  not 
get  very  black,  for  the  air  was  pure  and  clear;  the  stars  shone 
out  like  electric  lamps,  and  the  moon  poured  her  silver  gla- 
mour over  the  scene. 

At  Ak-sai,  at  i .\.m.  on  November  21st,  I noted  the  low- 
est temperature,  —3.1°  Fahr.  (—19.5°  C.),  we  had  during  the 
journey.  The  countless  facets  of  the  hoar-frost  shimmered 
in  the  moonlight,  and  the  windows  of  the  station-house  were 
transfisfured  with  the  lacelike  trees  and  flowers  of  frost. 

The  stage  to  Terekli  was  the  longest  of  the  whole  journey, 
amounting  to  22.I  miles;  in  the  course  of  it  we  crossed  the 
boundary  between  the  pro\inces  of  Turgai  and  Syr-daria. 
y\t  J 111  LIZ,  the  first  station  belonging  to  the  merchant  h'anoff, 
which  had  a comfortable  room  for  travellers,  I paid  twenty- 
five  roubles  {£2  lo^.)  for  the  150  miles  to  Kazalinsk. 


CHAPTKR  V 


FROM  LAKE  ARAL  TO  TASHKENT) 

Four  miles  nortli  of  Terekli  we  i^lunged  into  the  Desert 
of  Kara -kum  (the  Black  Sand).  \'egetation  grew  scantier 
and  scantier,  and  in  a short  time  we  were  immersed  in  an 
ocean  of  sand.  This  region  was  at  one  time  covered  by  the 
waters  of  the  Aralo-Caspian  Sea,  a fact  evidenced  by  the  prev- 
alence of  shells  of  CardiuDi  and  Mytiliis,  which  are  said  to 
have  been  found  far  in  the  desert. 

It  was  a moonlitrht  nitjht  when  I arrived  at  the  little  sta- 

o o 

tion  of  Konstantinovskaya,  where  the  travellers’  “ room  " was 
merely  a Kirghiz  kibitkcx  (tent),  not  very  inviting  at  that  j^e- 
riod  of  the  year.  From  this  place  to  Kamishli-bash,  a dis- 
tance of  eighty  miles,  Bactrian  camels  are  generally  used,  as 
horses  are  not  strong  enough  to  drag  the  conveyances  through 
the  barkhans,  or  sand-hills,  which  occur  along  that  portion  of 
the  route. 

I had  not  been  waiting  many  minutes  at  Konstantinovskaya 
when  I heard  a well-known  gurgling  sound,  and  the  fantastic 
silhouettes  of  three  majestic  camels  became  visible  in  the 
moonlight.  They  were  harnessed  all  three  abreast  to  the 
tarantass,  and,  when  the  driver  whistled,  set  off  at  a steady 
trot.  Their  pace  was  swift  and  even,  and  they  often  broke 
into  a gallop. 

Ere  long  I noticed  that  the  surface  gradually  sloped  tow- 
ards the  southwest.  A thick  bank  of  vapor  hung  over  Lake 
Aral  in  the  same  direction ; while  in  the  north  and  east  the 
sky  was  clear.  Between  the  stations  of  Alti-kuduk  and  Ak- 
julpas  the  road  ran  close  by  the  side  of  the  lake,  often  not 
more  than  half  a dozen  paces  from  it.  The  fine  yellow  sand 
was  so  hard  and  compact  that  the  camels’  hoofs  left  scarcely 


48 


THROUGH  ASIA 


a perceptible  trace;  but  farther  up  it  rose  into  sand-hills,  and 
there  the  tarantass  sank  in  up  to  the  axles. 

Lake  Aral  lies  157  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea;  and  its 
area  is  27,000  square  miles,  ten  times  the  size  of  Lake  Wener, 
or  nearly  the  same  size  as  Scotland.  The  shores  of  the  lake 
are  barren  and  desolate,  its  depth  inconsiderable,  and  the 
water  so  salt  that  it  cannot  be  used  for  drinking  purposes  ex- 
cept at  the  mouths  of  the  rivers;  but  far  out  in  the  lake  there 
are  said  to  exist  certain  fresh-water  belts.  Close  to  the  shore 


THE  STATION  OF  KONSTAXTIXOVSKAVA 

at  the  northeast  end  is  the  station  of  Ak-julpaz,  and  near  it  a 
low  ridge  of  sand,  on  the  top  of  which  the  Kirghiz  have  made 
a burying-place,  with  square  tombs  built  of  slabs  of  stone. 
Eiirht  vears  aefo  the  station  stood  on  the  actual  shore.  Hut 
at  certain  seasons  it  was  threatened  by  inundation  and  be- 
came entirely  cut  off  from  the  posting-road ; it  was  therefore 
moved  about  half  a mile  farther  inland.  When  there  is  a 
high  wind  from  the  southwest  the  water  is  driven  uj)  the  bay 
towards  the  desert,  and  overflows  the  shore  for  great  dis- 
tances, filling  up  all  the  hollows  and  dejiressions  of  the 
ground.  In  these  pools  sturgeon  and  other  fish  may  be 
caught  with  the  hand.  At  the  time  of  which  I write,  the 
bay  was  frozen  over,  and  at  a distance  of  some  miles  from 
the  shore  I saw  a caravan  crossing  the  glassy  ice.  The 


I'ROM  LAKH  ARAL  TO  TASllKEND 


49 


same  passage  is  also  used  in  summer,  for  the  water  is  then 
extremely  shallow,  not  more  than  seven  feet  at  its  deepest, 
and  in  most  places  only  two  or  three  feet.  During  the 
warm  season  of  the  year,  when  the  sand  is  dry,  it  is  blown 
by  the  wind  in  the  direction  of  the  lake,  continually  chang- 
ing the  coast -line,  filling  uj)  the  creeks,  and  forming  sand- 
spits,  islets,  and  sand  - banks.  The  coast  is  bordered  by 


^[V  TARAXTASS  DRAWN  BY  THREE  CAMELS 

a number  of  salt  lagoons,  called  by  the  Russians  soloncts^ 
which,  however,  are  generally  dry  in  summer.  They  are 
former  creeks  or  bays  which  have  been  cut  off  from  the 
great  lake  bv  the  drift-sand.  The  fishing  in  these  lagoons 
is  first-rate;  the  Ural  Cossacks,  who  engage  in  it,  lay  their 
nets  at  a distance  of-  ten  -or  a dozen  miles  from  the  shore. 
When  the  water  is  frozen  they  use  sledges  or  camels  to 
reach  their  fishing-holes  in  the  ice ; at  other  times  they  row 
out  in  boats  of  a moderate  size. 

The  climate  in  these  tracts  is  good.  The  summer  heat  is 
tempered  by  the  proximity  to  Lake  Aral,  while  in  the  winter 

1-4 


50 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  cold  is  seldom  severe;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  rain  and 
thick  mists  are  common  phenomena.  At  the  time  of  my 
visit  it  rained  continuously,  so  that  in  many  places  the  road 
was  covered  with  broad  pools.  The  water  splashed  and 
spouted  up  as  the  camels  tramped  through  it ; the  convey- 
ance threatened  every  moment  to  stick  fast  in  the  moist, 
tenacious  sand;  and  the  rain  pattered  ceaselessly  on  the  tilt. 


TIIK  KIRCnilZ  STKI’PK,  NEAR  l.AKE  ARAI. 

W'hen,  at  nine  o’clock  on  the  evening  of  November  23d,  the 
temperature  rose  to  31.1°  h'ahr.  ( — 0.5°  C.),  the  air  seemed  to 
be  cpiite  warm. 

.As  a rule,  the  camels  were  obedient  and  docile,  and  the 
driver  was  able  to  keep  on  his  seat;  but  one  or  two  of  the 
teams  became  cantankcM'ous,  and  insisted  on  going  their 
own  way,  so  that  the  postilion  was  ()l)liged  to  ride  the  mid- 
dle animal.  The  reins  are  fastened  to  a piece  of  wood  in- 
serted through  the  nostrils,  and  in  this  cruel  manner  the 
beasts  are  compelled  to  obey. 

Strange  as  it  had  been  to  drive  with  camels,  it  was  with 
a feeling  of  relief  that  I again  saw  three  black  horses  being 


I'ROM  LAKl-:  ARAL  TO  rASHKI<:Xl) 


51 


harnessed  to  the  tarantass.  My  joy  was  short-lived,  however; 
for  before  we  got  half-way  to  the  next  station  the  vehicle 
stuck  fast  in  a salt  marsh,  and,  in  sj^ite  of  our  utmost  ex- 
ertions, could  neither  be  dragged  backward  nor  forward. 
'I'he  driver  shouted  and  lashed  with  his  whij),  the  horses 
flung  out,  and  stumbled,  and  broke  their  traces.  Hut  it 
was  all  no  use.  The  driver  had  to  unharness  one  of  them 
and  ride  back  to  the  station  for  hel]). 

.After  a couple  of  hours'  waiting  in  the  rain,  wind,  and 
darkness,  wondering  whether  the  wolves  would  come  and 
pay  me  a visit,  I was  joined  by  a couple  of  Kirghiz,  who 
harnessed  two  fresh  horses  in  front  of  the  troika,  thus  mak- 
ing a patyorka,  or  team  of  five.  Their  united  exertions  at 
length  succeeded  in  extricating  the  \ehicle  from  its  sandy 
bed,  into  which  it  had  sunk  deeper  and  deeper.  When  at  last 
we  got  under  way  again  and  rolled  off  across  the  stej)pe, 
large  cakes  ofwet  sand  and  clay  hung  dripping  from  the  wheels. 

At  Vunyskaya,  the  last  station  before  we  reached  the  Syr- 
daria,  I stoj)ped  awhile  during  the  night  of  the  24th  ; but 
as  I was  drinking  my  tea  a v iolent  buran  (snow-storm)  came 
on,  smothering  evervthing  in  fine,  driving  snow.  The  tar- 
antass was  covered  over  with  tarpaulins,  and  there  was  no 
alternative  but  to  wait  till  daybreak.  The  road  was  so  bad 
the  last  two  stages  before  reaching  Kazalinsk  that  I was 
obliged  to  drive  after  the  patyorka  and  engage  an  extra  man 
to  ride  on  the  near  leader. 

Kazalinsk  stands  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Syr-daria,  iio 
miles  by  river  and  50  miles  by  road,  from  Lake  Aral.  It 
consisted  of  600  houses,  of  which  200  were  inhabited  by 
Russians,  and  had  3500  inhabitants,  of  whom  1000  (their 
families  included)  were  Ural  Cossacks.  The  rest  of  the 
population  was  made  up  of  Sarts,  Bokharans,  Tatars,  Kir- 
ghiz, and  a few  Jews.  The  richest  merchants  were  natives  of 
Bokhara;  the  Kirghiz,  on  the  other  hand,  being  poor.  'Fheir 
more  wealthy  kinsmen  live  on  the  steppe,  and  derive  their 
riches  from  their  herds.  In  the  month  of  May,  when  the 
pasturage  is  good,  countless  sheep  are  driven  to  Orenburg 
to  be  sold. 


52 


THROUGH  ASIA 


At  the  time  of  the  Russian  advance  upon  Khiva,  Kaza- 
linsk  had  a certain  claim  to  importance  as  a depot  and  for- 
tified place.  The  Lake  Aral  fleet  of  five  small  steamers  made 
this  place  their  station,  and  the  garrison  consisted  of  a whole 
battalion.  The  town  has  now  a garrison  of  only  twenty-four 
men  and  two  launches,  the  other  vessels  having  been  moved 
to  Charjui  on  the  Amu-daria.  There  is  no  longer  any  life 


MY  TAUANTASS  DRAWN  ]!Y  A I'ATYORKA  (TEAM  OE  I-TYE  HORSES) 

or  movement  in  the  place.  The  whirring  sails  of  the  wind- 
mills and  the  numerous  fishing-boats  on  the  lake  were  the 
only  objects  which  gave  relief  or  color  to  the  monotony  of 
the  scene.  The  streets  of  the  town  were  at  that  season  of 
the  year  impassable,  even  to  the  wearer  of  water-j)roof  boots 
reaching  to  the  knee.  The  Russian  houses  were  built  of 
bricks,  and  were  low  and  white;  those  of  the  .Sarts,  Bok- 
harans, and  Kirghiz  of  dried  clay,  and  were  gray  and  dilaj)!- 
dated,  and  often  surrounded  by  long  and  dreary- looking 
walls.  'I'licre  were  two  schools,  a church,  and  soiue  public 
buildings,  the  residence  of  the  chief  of  the  district  {uyasduy 


'nil',  SVK-1)AKI.\,  NKAk  KAZAMNSK 


I 

I 


FROM  LAKH  ARAL  TO  TASHKIAXI)  55 


natyahiik)  being  the  most  imi)ortant.  bAch  was  surrounded 
by  a grove  of  fine  silver  pojjlars,  in  the  tojDS  of  which  a host 
of  crows  ke]3t  uj)  an  incessant  chatter. 

'I'he  Ural  Cossacks  have  the  exclusive  right  of  fishing  in 
the  river.  They  confine  themselves  lirincipally  to  its  estuary; 
the  previous  year  (1S92)  they  had  taken  14,000  sturgeon.  At 
the  time  of  my  visit  the  ri\er  was  expected  to  freeze  e\ery 
day:  and  as  it  often  becomes  frost-bound  in  a single  night, 
the  fishermen  had  already  beached  their  boats.  Higher  up, 
the  adjacent  land  does  not  rise  much  above  the  level  of  the 
current,  so  that  a hard,  frosty  night  ’often  inundates  exten- 
sive tracts  of  country.  'Hie  water,  fiowing  over  the  ice, 
freezes  again  thicker  than  before,  and  so  compels  the  stream 
to  find  another  course.  Sometimes  this  puts  a stoj)  to  traffic, 
for  the  inundated  tracts  can  be  crossed  neither  on  horseback 
nor  with  arba  (cart),  and  the  post-troikas  are  compelled  to 
make  long  detours  into  the  stepjie. 

.Accompanied  by  seven  C\)ssacks,  I made  a short  excur- 
sion for  the  purpose  of  examining  the  current,  etc.,  of  the 
river.  Near  the  fort,  on  the  right  bank,  we  found  a depth 
of  not  less  than  forty-nine  feet.  The  volume  of  water  was 
just  now  the  lowest  that  had  been  observed  for  fifteen  years. 
In  the  months  of  July  and  August  the  stream  is  highest,  and 
it  gradually  sinks  during  the  autumn.  Fhe  water  was  a yel- 
lowish-gray color,  but  good  to  drink. 

I'he  climate  of  Kazalinsk  is  also  infiuenced  by  the  prox- 
imity of  Lake  Aral,  although  in  the  winter  the  thermome- 
ter sinks  as  low  as  from  —22°  to  — 31°  Fahr.  ( — 30°  to  — 35°  C.). 
The  snowfall  is  inconsiderable,  and  the  snow  disappears 
quickly;  for  this  reason  sledging  is  not  common.  At  the 
time  of  my  visit  there  was  a good  deal  of  mist  and  fine 
rain.  I paid  forty-nine  roubles  (^4  185.)  there  for  the  240 
miles,  and  for  four  horses,  to  Perovsk;  and  in  the  latter  town, 
for  the  385  miles  and  for  three  horses  to  Tashkend,  sixty- 
one  roubles  2s.). 

As  I had  nothing  further  to  do  in  Kazalinsk,  I continued 
my  journey  up  beside  the  stream  with  the  patyorka.  The 
alluvial  soil  of  yellow  clay  was  as  flat  as  the  top  of  a table, 


56 


THROUGH  ASIA 


and  at  short  distances  clay  mounds,  with  a bunch  of  kaniish 
(reeds)  on  the  top  have  been  built  to  guide  the  yamshtchiks 
(post-drivers)  in  the  winter,  when  everything  is  buried  under 
the  snow,  and  it  is  impossible  to  discern  any  trace  of  the 
road.  These  mounds  are  the  beacons  and  sea-marks  of  the 
desert  ocean.  The  scene  was  as  desolate  as  ever,  neither 


ANOTHER  VIEW  OF  THE  SVR-DARIA  NEAR  KAZALINSK 


people  nor  habitations  being  met  with  during  the  whole 
day’s  journey,  except  a couple  of  Kirghiz  on  horseback,  driv- 
ing a hundred  camels  or  so  into  tlie  steppe.  The  noble  Syr- 
daria  was  the  only  other  object  which  arrested  the  attention. 

d'he  road  followed  the  bank  of  the  Jaxartes  (Syr-daria)  as 
far  as  the  unimportant  garrison  town  of  Karmakchi,  generally 
called  by  the  Russians  Fort  No.  2.  It  consisted  of  seventy 
Mohammedan  (native)  and  nine  Russian  houses.  At  this 
jdacc  we  again  turned  into  the  steppe,  to  make  the  detour 
round  the  extensive  marshes  of  Hokali-kopa,  which  are  an- 
nually inundated  by  the  Syr-daria.  In  this  region  we  passed 
the  two  poorest  stations  of  the  whole  journey — namely,  Alex- 
androvskaya and  Semionnovskaya  — each  consisting  of  not 
more  than  three  Kirghiz  yurts — one  for  the  staresta,  one  for 


FROM  LARK  ARAL  TO  TASUKKNT) 


57 


travellers,  and  one  for  the  jiost -drivers  and  their  families. 
The  former  place  contained  also  four-legged  inhabitants — a 
number  of  big  rats  running  unconcernedly  backward  and 
forward  across  the  felt  carpets.  The  station  was  surrounded 
by  a reed  wall,  outside  which  tarantasses  and  telegas  stood  in 
a row. 

h'or  several  stages  the  road  had  run  through  a barren 
waste,  where  nothing  grew  e.xcept  a few  thinly  scattered  sak- 
sauls.  W'e  now  entered  a region  which  bore  traces  of  recent 
inundation,  and  where  the  kamish  (reeds)  grew  high  and 
thick. 

All  the  way  from  F'ort  Perovsk — which  is  situated  on  the 
bank  of  the  Jaxartes,  and  in  every  way  resembles  Kazalinsk, 
except  in  being  cleaner — to  the  station  t)f  Chumen-arik,  vege- 
tation was  very  abundant.  It  consisted  of  kamish,  saksaul, 
and  prickly  shrubs,  which  grew  in  thickets,  forming  a verita- 
ble jungle,  and  through  which  the  road  often  wound  in  a sort 
of  narrow  tunnel.  This  was  a favorite  haunt  of  tigers,  wild 
boar,  and  gazelles  ; and  there  were  geese,  wild  ducks,  and, 
above  all,  immense  numbers  of  pheasants.  These  last  were 
so  bold  that  they  sat  by  the  side  of  the  road  and  calmly 
contemplated  the  passer-by;  but  the  moment  we  stopped  to 
fire  they  rose  with  whirring  wings.  Their  delicate  white  flesh 
was  indeed  a welcome  addition  to  my  bill  of  fare,  the  more 
so  as  my  provisions,  so  far  as  delicacies  were  concerned,  had 
very  nearly  come  to  an  end.  The  Kirghiz  shoot  the  pheas- 
ants with  wretched  muzzle-loaders,  and  sell  them  generally 
for  six  (i.W.)  or  seven  kopeks  (if^7.)  apiece.  They  charged 
me,  however,  ten  or  twelve  (3^/.)  kopeks.  In  Orenburg  a 
pheasant  costs  as  much  as  a rouble  and  a half  (35-.);  in  St. 
Petersburg,  two  or  three.  Officers  and  lovers  of  sport  from 
Tashkend  often  visit  this  sportsman’s  El  Dorado,  and  always 
return  with  a good  bag. 

The  station-house  at  Julsk  was  built  only  ten  yards  or  so 
from  the  river-bank,  and  is  annually  threatened  with  inunda- 
tion. Between  that  place  and  Mesheh-uli  the  country  was 
rather  broken.  We  crossed  some  narrow  sand-belts,  then 
some  canals  and  dried-up  watercourses  by  means  of  wooden 


58 


THROUGH  ASIA 


bridges.  All  this  part  of  the  road  was  strewn  with  dried 
reeds,  to  prevent  vehicles  from  sinking  into  the  mud  during 
the  rainy  season.  At  the  time  of  my  journey  the  ground 
was  hard  and  lumpy,  owing  to  the  frost.  Here  the  Kirghiz 
again  became  numerous.  We  frequently  passed  their  auls, 
and  saw  their  herds  grazing  among  the  thickets. 


A MISERABLE  STATION  NEAR  THE  SYR-DARIA 

On  November  29th  the  sunset  was  very  beautiful.  The 
heavens  in  the  west  glowed  as  from  the  reflection  of  a 
prairie  fire,  and  against  it  the  gnarled  and  tufted  branches  of 
the  saksaul  stood  out  in  inky  blackness.  The  whole  steppe 
was  lit  up  by  a magic,  fiery  glow,  while  in  the  east  the  som- 
bre desert  vegetation  was  bathed  in  gold. 

A railway  journey  is  certainly  a very  much  more  conven- 
ient mode  of  locomotion  than  driving  in  a tarantass.  In  the 
former  you  have  no  need  to  trouble  yourself  about  the  fric- 
tion of  the  wheels  or  the  safety  of  the  axles;  in  a tarantass. 
on  the  contrary,  you  must  always  be  jirepared  for  contingen- 
cies of  the  kind,  and  be  continually  insjiecting  the  vehicle. 
My  astonishment  may  easily  be  imagined  when,  on  examin- 
ing: the  carriag;e  at  Mesheh-uli,  I found  that  the  front  axle 
was  snapjied  right  across,  and  only  held  by  four  screws. 


FROM  I.AKI<:  ARAL  TO  TASHKFNM) 


59 


The  staresta  gave  me  the  comforting  consolation  that  I 
should  find  a blacksmith  at  the  town  of  Turkestan,  about 
120  miles  farther  on,  and  he  thought  that  the  evil  moment 
might  be  postponed  if  the  driver  went  very  slowly  downhill. 

Yani-kurgan,  a Kirghiz  village,  with  a caravanserai  and 
the  ruins  of  an  old  Kokand  fortress,  was  situated  immediate- 
ly on  the  bank  of  the  Syr-daria.  The  road  in  jdaces  was 
miserable,  and  I sat  on  thorns,  expecting  the  axle  to  give 
way  every  minute,  which  would  have  been  anything  but 
pleasant  in  the  middle  of  the  steppe.  The  endless  monot- 
ony of  the  landscape  was  at  this  stage  somewhat  relieved  by 
the  Kara-tau  Mountains,  which  became  visible  on  the  left, 
looking  like  a low  wall. 

At  Tash  - suat,  where  the  Syr-daria  flowed  in  a broad, 
stately  stream,  visible  to  a great  distance,  we  left  the  river 
on  the  right  hand,  and  directed  our  course  for  the  old  city  of 
Turkestan.  I'he  vegetation  once  more  became  extremelv 
scanty ; but  along  the  hard,  level  road,  which  not  even  the 
continuous  fall  of  rain  had  succeeded  in  sjjoiling,  we  met  a 
number  of  caravans  travelling  at  a steady  jDace. 

At  last  we  came  within  sight  of  the  gardens  of  Turkestan, 
with  its  tall  poplars,  long,  gray,  clay  walls,  in  part  new, 
though  mostly  old  and  ruinous,  and  its  magnificent  saint’s 
tomb  dating  from  the  time  of  Tamerlane  (fourteenth  cen- 
tury). We  were  soon  driving  through  the  empty  bazaar — it 
was  a Friday  (December  ist),  the  Mohammedan  Sabbath — to 
the  station-house,  where  a Kirghiz  smith  at  once  set  to  work 
to  mend  the  broken  axle  of  the  tarantass. 

Turkestan,  which  was  conquered  in  1864  by  General 
Chernyayeff,  is  at  all  times  a ruinous  and  uninteresting 
town,  but  in  the  rain  and  mist  it  became  actually  disagreea- 
ble. The  only  object  that  could  at  all  justify  a delay  of  a 
few  hours  is  the  colossal  burial  mosque,  erected  in  1397  by 
Tamerlane  in  memory  of  a Kirghiz  saint,  Hazrett  Sultan 
Khoja  Ahmed  Yasovi.  Its  pishtak,  or  arched  facade,  is  un- 
usually high,  and  is  flanked  by  two  picturesque  towers. 
The  mosque  is  further  embellished  by  several  melon-shaped 
domes.  All  the  tiles  have  fallen  off  the  faqade,  but  on  the 


6o 


THROUGH  ASIA 


longer  wall  and  the  back  wall  of  the  rectangular  building, 
they  are  still  intact.  Their  iridescent  shades  of  blue  and 
green  resemble  the  tiles  one  sees  at  Samarkand.  The 
mosciue  abuts  upon  the  quadrangular  clay  fortress  wall, 
whicli  Khodiar  Khan  caused  to  be  built;  and  within  this 
also  the  Russian  barracks  are  situated.  Guided  by  some 
Sart  boys,  I threaded  my  way  through  a labyrinth  of  narrow 
lanes,  and  up  the  dark,  chilly  staircase  leading  to  the  sum- 
mit of  one  of  the  towers,  whence  there  was  a splendid  view 
over  Turkestan  and  the  neighboring  country.  In  my  case, 
however,  it  was  considerably  veiled  and  restricted  by  the 
heavy  rain  that  was  falling.  The  usual  melancholy  impres- 
sion of  the  East  made  itself  felt  even  here.  The  monuments 
of  ancient  architecture  fettered  me  by  their  beauty  and  im- 
pressed me  by  reason  of  their  age;  but  the  modern  houses 
were  nothing  better  than  miserable  mud  huts,  with  flat  roofs, 
divided  from  each  other  by  narrow,  crooked  lanes. 

As  I said  before,  it  was  the  Mohammedan  Sabbath,  and  I 
went  to  see  the  mosque  just  as  service  [iiamaz)  was  about  to 
besin.  Numbers  of  Sarts  in  s:av- colored  coats  and  white 
turbans  gathered  outside;  then,  renioving  their  hard,  clat- 
tering, heavy  boots  at  the  entrance,  they  solemnly  filed  into 
the  huge  mosque.  The  middle  of  the  floor  was  occupied  by 
a large  copper  bowl,  flanked  by  a number  of  tughs — i.t\,  tufts 
of  black  horse-hair  on  long  sticks.  The  walls  were  plastered 
white,  and  inscribed  with  proverbs.  I was  politely  motioned 
out  by  an  old  akhun  (attendant)  when  the  summons  to 
prayer  was  called  at  the  entrance ; but  I went  up  into  one  of 
the  galleries,  whence,  unseen  and  unsusi^ected,  I could  ob- 
serve the  long  rows  of  kneeling  and  bowing  Sarts — a strik- 
ing picture,  which  put  me  in  mind  of  the  nights  of  Ramadan 
in  Constantinople. 

'I'he  first  two  stages  from  'I'urkestan  were  extremely  dirty 
and  rugged  ; it  was  without  comparison  the  stiffest  piece  of 
road  on  the  whole  journey.  Between  Ikan  and  Nagai-kura 
we  literally  stuck  fast  in  the  mud.  I am  not  suj^erstitious, 
but  it  was  the  thirteenth  stage  froni  'I'ashkend,  and  we  had 
still  thirteen  versts  (8.^  miles)  to  Nagai-kura.  It  was  impos- 


FROM  LAKF  ARAL  TO  TASHKKM) 


6 1 

sible  to  move  the  horses.  The  shaft-horse  reared  and  be- 
came unmanageable;  while  the  other  two  had  aj)parently 
made  up  their  minds  to  kick  the  tarantass  to  pieces.  It  was 
midnight,  and  pitch  dark,  d'here  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
send  the  yamshtchik  back  to  Ikan  for  a couple  of  extra 
horses.  Meanwhile  I went  to  sleep  and  slept  for  ihree  hours, 
only  awaking  when  the  “five-in-hand”  were  hard  at  work 
hauling  us  out  of  the  mud.  It  had  taken  us  6.V  hours  to  do 
a paltry  fourteen  miles. 

d'he  country  from  Aris  to  Huru-jar  was  very  much  broken, 
and  it  was  considered  advisable  to  keej)  on  the  team  of  five. 
The  pace  downhill  was  terrific:  the  horses  fairly  laid  them- 
selves fiat  with  the  ground,  so  that  the  air  whistled  ]>ast  our 
ears.  Now  and  again  we  sped  j^ast  a village,  a horseman,  or 
a caravan,  or  a big  lumbering  arba  (high-wheeled  'rurkestan 
cart)  with  its  wheels  literally  fast  embedded  in  the  mud. 

At  intervals  along  the  road  there  were  small  pyramids  of 
sun-dried  clay,  intended  to  serve  as  sign-posts  in  the  winter. 
You  would  suppose  that  the  telegraph-j)osts  would  be  suffi- 
cient for  that  purpose;  but  the  road  wound  now  to  the  right, 
now  to  the  left  of  them,  and  after  a heavy  fall  of  snow  they  are 
altogether  buried  from  sight.  The  post-couriers,  therefore, 
who  are  not  under  any  circumstances  allowed  to  stop  or 
wait,  often  have  an  adventurous  time  of  it  when  crossine  the 
steppe  in  a snow-storm.  From  one  telegraph-post  it  is  often 
impossible  to  discern  the  next,  and  they  may  easily  lose  their 
way  while  going  from  one  to  the  other.  It  not  infrequently 
happens  that  the  post-troikas,  when  overtaken  by  a snow- 
storm, are  forced  to  spend  the  night  in  the  snow-drifts  and 
wait  till  the  storm  abates  or  day  breaks. 

The  Aris  is  quite  a respectable  river.  It  was  formerly 
crossed  on  high-wheeled  arbas ; but  a few  weeks  before  my 
arrival  a ferry  had  been  started.  The  equipage  with  its 
patvorka  was  placed  on  long  boats  lashed  together,  and  was 
hauled  across  the  river  by  the  ferry-men  pulling  at  a thick 
rope  stretched  from  bank  to  bank. 

Beyond  Buru-jar  numerous  ravines  and  steep  slopes  were 
encountered.  Going  downhill  the  yamshtchik  held  in  the 


62 


THROUGH  ASIA 


middle  or  shaft  horse  as  hard  as  he  could,  for  on  that  animal 
rested  the  entire  weight  of  the  carriage ; but  as  soon  as  it 
became  too  much  for  him  he  let  him  go,  and  the  momentum 
carried  down  the  tarantass  at  a terrific  pace,  so  that  it  was  as 


CROSSING  THE  RIVER  ARIS 


much  as  ever  the  horses  could  do  to  keep  their  feet.  The 
other  two  horses,  which  were  harnessed  in  front  of  the  troika 
with  loose  traces,  had  to  keep  a sharp  lookout  so  as  not  to 
be  run  into  by  the  shafts;  if  the  near  horse, with  its  rider,  had 
gone  down,  he  would  almost  certainly  have  been  run  over  by 
the  heavy  tarantass. 

All  went  well,  however,  although  our  lives  often  seemed 
to  be  in  jeopardy:  the  horses  were  sure-footed  and  the 
men  reliable  and  careful.  At  one  of  the  stations  one 
of  the  side  horses  of  the  troika  became  unmanageable, 
kicked  and  reared,  and  would  on  no  account  let  himself 
be  harnessed.  It  took  si.x  men  to  hold  him — two  on  each 
side,  one  at  his  head,  and  one  at  his  tail ; and  when  at  last 
he  was  harnessed  and  let  go,  he  started  off  at  a furious  pace, 
so  that  his  eyes  blazed  and  sparks  Hew  from  his  hoofs.  Just 
as  darkness  was  comiim  on  we  reached  the  town  of  Chim- 

o 

kent,  the  first  place  that  was  familiar  to  me  from  lu)-  former 
journey.  The  streets  were  silent  and  deserted  ; everything 
was  quiet,  although  lamps  and  candles  were  shining  through 
the  windows. 


(;i:xi-:rai,  vikw  of  tashkf.nd 


FROM  LAKE  ARAL  TO  TASHKENI) 


65 


We  were  now  nearing  Tashkend  (Tashkent),  wliere  the 
governor-general  of  the  jjrovince  resides.  Two  more  long 
stages,  through  mud  a foot  deej),  and  there  was  only  a short 
piece  of  the  road  left.  'I'he  way  seemed  to  be  endless,  al- 
thoimh  the  road  was  now  very  good.  I had  had  enough  of 
tarantass  driving,  and  it  was  with  a feeling  of  real  pleasure 
that  I turned  into  the  streets  of  Tashkend,  shortly  after  mid- 
night on  December  4th,  and  secured  a couple  of  comfortable 
rooms  at  the  Ilkin  Hotel. 

Thus  ended  my  nineteen  days’  drive,  in  the  course  of 
which  I had  covered  1300  miles  and  passed  over  1 1 .t  degrees 
of  latitude.  I had  watched  the  days  growing  longer,  although 
midwinter  was  approaching,  and  had  left  behind  me  a region 
that  was  swept  by  snow-storms,  and  where  winter  was  in  full 
career.  At  the  beginning  of  the  journey  the  thermometer 
was  three  to  four  degrees  below  zero  Eahr.  (—  19.5°  C.),  and  I 
had  now  reached  a land  where  spring  seemed  to  be  ap- 
proaching, for  the  soft,  balmy  air  made  it  a pleasure  to  be 
out-of-doors,  and  the  thermometer  showed  50°  to  55°  Fahr. 
(10°  to  12°  C.). 

1—5 


CHAPTER  VI 


FROM  TASHKEND  TO  MARGELAN 

I SPENT  nearl}^  seven  weeks  in  Tashkend;  but  as  I have 
already  described  the  town  in  my  former  book,  I will  only 
record  here  one  or  two  special  reminiscences.  The  gov- 
ernor-general, Baron  Vrevsky,  received  me  with  boundless 
hospitality ; I was  his  daily  guest,  and  enjoyed  the  oppor- 
tunity of  making  accpiaintances  who  were  of  great  assistance 
to  me  in  my  journey  across  the  Pamirs. 

During  Christmas  and  New-year  I was  a guest  at  many 
festivities.  Christmas  Ev'e,  the  first  and  pleasantest  during 
my  travels  in  Asia,  I spent  at  the  residence  of  Baron  Vh'ev- 
sky  in  almost  the  same  manner  as  at  home  in  the  North. 
Many  of  the  Christmas  j^resents  laid  out  awaiting  their 
future  owners  were  accompanied  with  I'rench  verses ; and 
in  the  middle  of  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  palace  stood  a 
gigantic  Christmas  tree,  made  of  cypress  branches,  and  dec- 
orated with  a hundred  tiny  wa.K  candles.  We  spent  the 
evening  in  the  customary  way — in  conversation,  by  a smok- 
ing samovar  in  the  drawing-room,  which  was  tastefully  fur- 
nished with  all  the  lu.xury  of  the  East.  Portraits  of  King 
Ci)scar,  the  Tsar,  and  the  Emir  of  Bokhara,  each  signed  with 
the  autograph  of  the  original,  adorned  the  walls.  The  fair 
sex  could  not  have  been  rej)resented  more  worthily  than  by 
the  Princess  Khavansky,  the  governor -general’s  charming 
daughter,  who  did  the  honors  at  all  entertainments,  private 
as  well  as  official,  with  grace  and  dignity. 

Christmas  Eve  was  kept  cn  famillc ; but  for  New-year’s 
P2ve  Baron  Vrevsky  invited  some  thirty  guests  to  his  house. 
As  midnight  ajjproached,  champagne  was  .served  round,  and 
in  silence  and  with  uplifted  glasses  we  awaited  the  striking 


(IM'.IMIISV.I,  .•!()  ..  .I, 111 


FROM  TASHKFNI)  TO  MARGFLAN  69 


of  the  clock.  As  the  New -year  came  in,  the  words  “N" 
7iovom  godom  !"  ("A  Happy  New-year  to  you!”)  were  s})oken 
to  right  and  to  left  by  each  jjerson. 

On  January  2d  the  usual  official  dinner  was  given  in  the 
banqueting  - hall  of  the  jDalace.  The  guests  were  all  civil 
and  military  officials  of  high  rank,  the  emissary  of  the  F2mir 
of  Bokhara,  the  three  chief  kadis  or  judges  of  the  Sarts  in 
Tashkend,  and  so  forth.  Hvery  year  the  Emir  of  Bokhara 
sends  a special  emissary  to  convey  to  the  governor -general 
the  compliments  of  the  season.  This  year  it  was  the  hand- 
some, black-bearded  Tajik,  Shadi  Beg  Karaol  Begi  Shigaol, 
whom  the  Emir  sent  to  welcome  me  when  I crossed  the 
frontier  between  Samarkand  and  Bokhara  two  years  previ- 
ously. 

According  to  custom,  Shadi  Beg  brought  with  him  pres- 
ents amounting  in  value  to  over  eleven  hundred  pounds. 
In  this  case  they  consisted  of  eight  horses,  with  handsome 
saddle-cloths  of  red  and  blue  satin  embroidered  in  gold  and 
silver,  carpets,  cloths,  ornaments,  and  several  hundred  cos- 
tumes, chiefly  from  Bokhara,  but  some  also  from  Kashmir 
and  China. 

Among  the  guests  was  a man  who  had  played  a promi- 
nent part  in  the  modern  history  of  Central  Asia — namely, 
Jura  Beg.  When  a young  man  he  was  in  the  service  of 
Emir  Nasrullah  of  Bokhara,  and  on  his  death  had  seized 
the  native  province  of  Shahr-i-Sebs,  the  ancient  Kesh,  where 
Tamerlane  was  born.  There  he  ruled  as  beg:  for  some  vears, 
but  was  ousted  by  a rival  and  thrown  into  prison.  The 
people,  who  were  not  satisfied  with  the  rule  of  the  new 
beg,  liberated  Jura  Beg  and  reconstituted  him  their  prince. 
When  the  Russians,  under  General  Kaufmann,  took  Samar- 
kand in  1868,  Jura  Beg  hastened  with  a considerable  force 
to  the  relief  of  the  famous  city,  and  besieged  it  obstinately, 
reducing  the  Russians  to  great  distress,  from  which  they 
were  only  saved  at  the  last  moment  by  a relief  expedition. 
General  Kaufmann  thereupon  made  a compromise  with 
Jura  Beg,  by  which  the  latter  was  to  retain  his  position  as 
beg  of  Shahr-i-Sebs,  upon  his  pledging  himself  not  to 


70 


THROUGH  ASIA 


molest  the  Russians.  When,  however,  a few  years  later, 
some  Cossacks  were  killed  on  his  territory,  he  was  treated 
so  harshly  by  General  Kaufmann  that  he  was  constrained 
to  flee  from  Shahr-i-Sebs,  where  he  had  ruled  for  ten  years. 
He  then  wandered  about  in  the  mountains,  with  his  friend 
Baba  Beg,  and  finally  went  to  Kokand,  to  seek  aid  and 


VIEW  FROM  THE  MOHAMMEDAN  PORTION  OF  TASHKEND 


hospitality  from  the  last  khan,  Khan  Khodiar.  The  latter, 
however,  took  him  prisoner,  threw  him  in  chains,  and  sent 
him  to  his  enemy.  General  Kaufmann. 

Kaufmann  received  him  with  kindness,  but  kejit  him 
under  military  surveillance.  The  Rmssians  in  d'ashkend 
treated  him  in  a manner  befitting  his  dignity,  and  he  en- 
joyed comjiaratively  a large  measure  of  freedom.  When 
General  Skolieleif  initiated  his  campaign  against  the'  Khan- 
ate of  Kokand,  Jura  Beg,  who  knew  the  country  and  hated 
Khodiar  Khan,  offered  his  services.  During  this  campaign, 
which  proved  the  death-blow  of  Kokand,  Jura  Beg  grcatlv 
rlistinguished  himself,  and  was  made  a Russian  colonel,  and 
given  the  order  of  the  Cross  of  St.  (A'orge.  He  is  now, 


S'IkKKT  IN  TASlIKKNI) 


FROM  TASHKFNI)  TO  MARCiFLAN 


73 


ill  manner  and  speech  and  dress,  completely  Russianized, 
lives  in  a well-appointed  house  in  Tashkend,  receives  a 
yearly  pension  of  ^300  from  the  Russian  government  and 
^500  from  the  Fmir  of  Bokhara,  who,  however,  is  his  sworn 
enemy.  He  leads  a life  of  ease  and  leisure,  studies  learned 
Oriental  works,  and  is  content  with  the  fjreat  chamre  which 
has  taken  place  in  his  e.xistence.  But  the  story  of  his  ad- 
venturous and  e.xciti ng  life,  which  he  told  me  during  the 
evenings  I spent  at  his  house,  is  indeed  jiathetic — a power- 
ful Asiatic  prince  to  become  a Russian  colonel ! 

To  return  to  the  dinner.  It  was  truly  sumptuous,  with 
glittering  candelabra  and  resplendent,  star- decorated  uni- 
forms. The  only  thing  that  served  to  remind  the  stranger 
that  he  was  in  Central  .Asia  was  the  pre.sence  of  the  Ori- 
ental guests  in  their  costly  gay-colored  khalats  (coats)  and 
turbans.  W'hen  the  champagne  was  served,  the  governor- 
general  rose  and  read  aloud  a telegram  from  the  Tsar,  and 
proposed  his  health.  Standing,  and  with  their  faces  turned 
towards  the  Tsar’s  portrait,  all  the  guests  listened  to  the 
Russian  national  anthem.  Baron  \Tevsky  then  proposed 
the  health  of  the  Turkestan  army  and  the  Fmir  of  Bokhara, 
and  was  himself  the  subject  of  a speech  by  the  governor 
of  the  province  of  Syr-daria. 

It  was  not,  however,  social  enjoyments  which  kept  me  so 
long  in  Tashkend.  I was  busily  engaged  the  whole  time 
with  preparations  for  the  continuation  of  my  journey  east- 
ward. I worked  off  large  arrears  of  correspondence,  took 
a number  of  photographs  in  the  Sart  quarter  of  the  town, 
adjusted  my  instruments  at  the  observatory,  and  collected  a 
good  deal  of  information,  both  written  and  oral,  regarding 
the  Pamirs.  .All  my  instruments  were  in  good  preservation, 
e.xcept  the  quicksilver  barometer,  which  had  come  to  grief 
on  the  journey  from  Orenburg,  and  had  to  be  thoroughly 
repaired  by  the  German  mechanic  at  the  observatory.  The 
only  other  thing  w'hich  was  the  worse  for  the  continual  jolt- 
ing of  the  tarantass  was  the  ammunition.  Wdien  I opened 
the  two  cases  in  which  it  was  packed,  a sorry  sight  met  my 
eyes.  The  paper  cases  of  two  or  three  hundred  cartridges 


74 


THROUGH  ASIA 


were  ground  to  powder,  and  the  tin  boxes  in  which  they  had 
been  packed  were  crumpled  together  like  paper.  That  none 
of  the  many  sharp  corners  had  struck  a cap  and  caused  a 
serious  explosion  was  little  short  of  a miracle ; my  journey 
would  then  have  had  a speedier  conclusion  and  a different 
termination.  Having  put  the  ammunition  in  order  again, 
and  made  it  up  to  the  original  amount,  I had  it  all  repacked. 

Lastly,  I had  a great  deal  of  shopping  to  do.  I laid  in  a 
stock  of  tinned  provisions,  tea,  cocoa,  cheese,  tobacco,  etc., 
sufficient  to  last  several  months;  I also  bought  sundry  small 
articles,  such  as  revolvers,  and  the  ammunition  for  them. 


KIROIIIZ  YURTS  (XENTS)  IX  TASIIKEXI) 


clocks,  compasses,  musical  boxes,  field-glasses,  kaleidoscojjes, 
microscoj^es,  silver  cups,  oimaments,  cloth,  etc.,  all  intended 
as  presents  for  the  Kirghiz,  Chinese,  and  Mongols.  In  the 
interior  of  .Asia  textiles  almost  take  the  place  of  current  coin; 
for  a few  yards  of  ordinary  cotton  material  you  may  buy  a 
horse,  or  j)rovisions  to  last  a whole  caravaii  several  days  may 
be  bought,  k'inally,  on  the  special  recommendation  of  the 
governor-general,  I was  enabled  to  ])urchase  the  latest  and 
best  ten-verst  ma].)s  of  the  Pamirs,  a chronometer  (W'iren),  and 
a Herrlan  rifle,  with  cartridges  and  twenty  pounds  of  shot. 


FROM  TASllKFNI)  TO  MARCMiLAN 


75 

W’hen  at  length  my  ])rej)arations  were  all  completed,  I 
bade  farewell  to  mv  friends  in  Tashkend,  and  started  airain 
on  January  25th,  1894,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

I had  not  got  farther  than  Chirchick — where  I had  to  ])ay 
37  roubles  (^3  14^.)  for  the  ninety  odd  miles  to  Khojent  and 
for  eight  horses  (for  two  carriages  were  now  necessary) — 
when  I was  delayed  for  want  of  horses.  I here  was  so  much 
traffic  that,  although  the  stations  keej)  as  many  as  ten  troikas, 
they  are  often  short  of  horses ; and  when  a traveller  is  un- 
fortunate enough  to  clash  with  the  post,  for  which  the  sta- 
tion-masters are  resi)onsible,  there  is  nothing  for  it  e.\cej)t  to 
pos.sess  one’s  soul  in  j)atience. 

It  had  turned  considerably  colder  again,  and  at  nine  in  the 
morning  the  thermometer  registered  only  12.2°  Fahr.(-  i i°C.). 
riie  face  of  the  country  was  hidden  under  snow;  but  the 
road  was  hard  and  lumjjy,  and  made  the  tarantass  shake  to 
such  an  e.xtent  that  it  was  more  like  an  instrument  of  torture 
than  a means  of  locomotion.  'I'he  quicksilver  barometer  was 
again  in  the  utmost  danger,  and  to  jn'otect  it  I was  obliged 
to  lay  it  on  a cushion  on  my  knees  and  nurse  it  like  a baby, 
d'hrough  the  thick,  chilly  mist,  in  which  everything  was  en- 
veloped, I caught  occasional  glimpses  of  the  camel-caravans 
we  met  or  overtook. 

The  town  of  Biskent  possesses  a certain  interest  in  the  re- 
cent history  of  Central  Asia,  as  being  the  birthplace,  about 
the  year  1825,  of  Yakub  Beg,  who  in  1865  conquered  the 
whole  of  Kashgar.  He  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
rulers  that  have  ever  lived;  and  his  memory  in  the  interior 
of  Asia,  where  he  is  usually  called  “ Bedawlet,”  or  “ The 
Happy,”  will  long  remain  green.  Ever  since  he  was  mur- 
dered in  Korla,  in  the  year  1877,  the  country  has  been  in  a 
state  of  great  confusion.  His  son  Hak  Kuli  Beg  marched 

o o 

with  his  father's  army,  which  was  fighting  against  the  Chinese, 
to  Kashgar,  where  he  too  was  murdered,  according  to  report 
by  his  brother,  Beg  Kuli  Beg.  The  latter  still  lives  in  Biskent, 
where  he  owns  several  houses  and  farms,  and  draws  a Russian 
pension.  He  is  a strong,  shapely  man,  fifty  years  of  age  or 
so,  with  a jet  black  beard  and  hard  features.  Surrounded  by 


76 


THROUGH  ASIA 


his  eight  sons,  he  is  awaiting  with  impatience  the  first  sign  of 
dissension  in  Kashgar,  when  he  will  hasten  thither  to  take 
possession,  if  possible,  of  his  father’s  throne.  At  least,  that 
is  what  he  told  me  himself.  Poor  fellow ! long  may  he  live 


A VIEW  FROM  TASIIKENl) 

on  in  that  hope,  for  he  does  not  know  what  great  political 
changes  have  taken  place  in  East  Turkestan  since  the  days 
of  Yakub  Beg! 

After  several  delays,  caused  by  want  of  horses,  I at  last,  on 
the  27th,  reached  Khojent,  where  my  sole  errand  was  to  take 
measurements  of  the  Syr-daria. 

I sliall  say  a few  words  about  these  further  on ; of 
the  town  itself  I have  already  given  a description  in  my 
former  book.  Sufifice  it,  therefore,  to  say  a word  or 
two  only  about  the  large  bridge  which  spans  the  Syr-darin. 
It  is  divided  into  two  jiarallel  roadways  for  the  conveni- 
ence of  traffic,  is  jirovided  with  a black  railing,  and  is 
built  on  jiiles  resting  on  three  wooden  caissons  filled  with 
stones. 


FROM  TASHKFNM)  TO  MARGFLAN 


77 

The  owner,  who  is  a private  jierson,  made  a profitable  con- 
tract with  the  government  for  thirty  years.  l)urin<^  the  first 
twenty  he  was  to  be  allowed  free  posse.ssion  of  his  bridge; 
but  for  the  following  ten  he  was  to  pay  3000  silver  roubles 
(/^30o)  a year  to  the  government.  Of  these  ten  years  si.\ 
have  sflll  to  run.  The  cost  of  building  the  bridge  was  put 
down  at  /'5000;  but  it  has  had  to  be  rebuilt  twice.  W'hen 
the  ten  years  have  run  out,  the  bridge  is  to  be  handed  over 
to  the  <>;overnment  in  good  condition. 

o o 

Of  Kokand,  which  1 reached  on  January  29th,  I am  now 
able  to  add  a few  details,  for  the  completion  of  my  former 
description.  Fhere  are  thirty-five  niadrasas,  ov  Mohammedan 
theological  colleges,  in  the  town.  I mention  in  particular  the 
madrasa  Hak  Kuli,  which  was  founded  in  the  year  1221  of 
the  Hejira  (1806).  The  madrasa  Khan  has  eighty-si.\  rooms 
and  three  hundred  pupils,  d'he  madrasa  Jami,  with  its  large 
(luadrangle  shaded  by  poplars,  willows,  and  mulberry-trees, 
its  minaret,  its  beautiful  cloisters,  with  varicolored  j)aintings 
on  the  checkered  ceiling,  and  its  carved  wooden  pillars,  be- 
tween which  a number  of  young  mollahs  (theological  stu- 
dents) were  sitting  reading,  likewise  has  eighty -si.x  rooms, 
but  only  two  hundred  pupils. 

1 also  went  to  see  the  Hakim  Ayim,  which  was  built 
twenty-three  years  ago  by  Khodiar  Khan’s  mother;  it  has  a 
library  with  a picturesque  balcony  or  kitab-Uianch  within  the 
quadrangle.  She  gave  land  and  gardens  at  the  same  time, 
the  income  from  which  amounts  to  1500  tillahs  (about  ^560) 
yearly,  and  is  devoted  to  the  maintenance  of  the  college  and 
the  students.  The  madrasa  Sultan  Murad  Beg  was  built  by 
Khodiar  Khan's  younger  brother,  and  has  ninety-nine  rooms 
and  a hundred  and  fifty  pupils.  The  Madrasa-i-Mir  is  the 
oldest  college  in  Kokand,  having  been  founded  by  Narbuta 
Khan  and  restored  in  the  year  1212  of  the  Hejira  (1797);  it 
has  fifty-seven  rooms  and  one  hundred  and  forty  pupils. 

At  the  time  of  my  visit  there  were  five  thousand  students 
at  the  different  madrasas  in  Kokand  maintained  by  dona- 
tions, while  three  hundred  were  living  at  their  own  expense. 
Resides  the  institutions  which  I have  just  mentioned,  there 


78 


THROUGH  ASIA 


were,  connected  with  Mohammedan  instruction,  forty-eight 
mektcb-k/ianeh,  or  schools,  for  six  hundred  boys  and  two 
hundred  girls,  and  thirty  kkarik-haneh,  or  schools  founded 
with  money  left  for  the  purpose  and  situated  near  the  testa- 
tors’ graves.  In  these  some  three  hundred  and  fift}'  pupils 
are  educated.  Finally,  there  were  three  Jewish  schools,  with 
sixty  pupils.  The  population  of  Kokand  was  about  60,000, 
of  whom  35,000  were  Sarts,  2000  Kashgarians  and  Taran- 
chis,  575  Jews,  500  Gypsies  (Lulis),  400  Dungans,  100  Tatars, 
100  Afghans,  12  Hindus  — as  usual,  money-lenders  — and  2 
Chinese.  To  this  add  350  Russians  and  a garrison  of  1400 
men.  The  rest  were  Tajiks.  A dozen  or  so  of  Chinese  are 
in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  place  every  spring  with  carpets 
from  Kashgar.  The  town  consisted  of  11,600  houses,  and 
possessed  nine  cotton  factories.  During  the  last  few  years 
Kokand  has  shown  a tendency  to  prosperity;  the  Russian 
quarter  in  particular  has  increased  steadilw  In  addition  to 
the  Russian  administration,  there  is  also  a native  administra- 
tion for  the  maintenance  of  order.  The  buro'omaster  is  called 

o 

kur-bashi,  and  under  him  are  four  aksakals,  each  of  whom 
has  the  supervision  of  a “large”  quarter  {katta-mahdllali)\ 
under  them  again  there  are  ninety-six  allik-bashis,  each  pre- 
siding over  a kishkintai-mdhdlldh,  or  “little  ” quarter. 

In  Kokand  I visited  a couple  of  hammam  (hot  baths),  nat- 
urally without  making  use  of  them ; for  they  offered  the 
opposite  of  what  we  understand  by  a bath,  and  were  rather 
hot-beds  for  the  propagation  of  skin  diseases.  'I'hey  were  en- 
tered through  a large  hall,  with  carpet-covered  benches  and 
wooden  columns ; this  was  the  room  for  undressing  in. 
krom  that  you  passed  through  a number  of  narrow,  laby- 
rinthine ])assages  to  dark,  steamy,  vaulted  rooms  of  different 
temperatures.  In  the  middle  of  each  there  was  a jdatform 
on  which  the  bather  is  rubbed  and  washed  by  a naked  sham- 
jjooer.  y\  mystic  twilight  })revailed  in  these  cellarlike  crypts, 
and  naked  figures  with  black  or  gray  beards  tlittcd  about 
through  the  steam-laden  atmosphei'e.  d'he  Mohammedans 
often  spend  half  their  day  in  the  bath,  smoking,  drinking  tea, 
and  sometimes  even  taking  dinner,  d'he  moral  condition  of 


Till-:  MAIN  1-:NTKAN'CK  to  a isazaar 


..A 


FROM  TASHKFNl)  TO  MARGFLAN 


8i 


the  town  is  terribly  degraded ; the  female  dancers,  who  ])er- 
form  at  weddings  and  other  ceremonies,  contribute  to  this  in 
no  small  degree. 

Instead  of  driving  direct  by  the  j)ost-road  to  Margelan,  I 
chose  the  detour  of  two  hundred  versts  (130  miles)  by  way 
of  Chust  and  Namangan,  so  as  to  obtain  further  opportunities 
of  completing  my  soundings  of  the  river  Syr-daria. 

After  sending  my  baggage  direct  to  Margelan  in  a coujde 
of  arbas  (carts),  I left  Kokand  on  January  30th,  in  my  old 
tarantass,  and  directed  my  course  northward  to  Urganchi,  a 
largish  kishlak  (winter  village),  where  the  fair  was  in  full 
swing  and  the  streets  full  of  people.  The  road  led  through 
an  unbroken  succession  of  villages,  and  on  either  side  of  it 
were  ariks,  or  channels,  tributaries  of  the  irrigation  system 
which  waters  the  oasis  of  Kokand.  At  the  village  of  Gurum- 
serai  wayfarers  are  ferried  across  the  Syr-daria  in  a large  boat. 
Thence  a miserable  road  leads  by  way  of  Pap  to  the  little 
town  of  Chust,  whose  only  claim  to  importance  lies  in  its  cul- 
tivation of  cotton,  rice,  and  grain.  After  that  the  road  passed 
over  small  hills  composed  of  yellow  loess  and  conglomerates. 
The  going  was  now  first-rate  everywhere,  and  we  made  good 
progress.  At  Tura-kurgan  we  crossed  the  stream  of  Kazan- 
sai,  which  in  summer  brings  down  great  quantities  of  water 
from  the  Chotkal  Mountains;  though  it  never  attains  the 
volume  of  the  Syr-daria,  as  the  water  is  distributed  through 
a number  of  ariks  which  irrigate  the  rice-fields. 

Namangan  is  surrounded  by  villages  and  gardens,  and  is 
the  residence  of  a iiy'dsdny  nafyalnik  (chief  of  a district).  The 
Seid  Kuli  Beg,  Khoja  Ishan,  and  Serdabi  madrasas  were  the 
only  buildings  in  the  town  of  even  passing  interest  to  the 
traveller.  The  square  market-place,  Ispar-khan,  which  e.x- 
tended  in  front  of  the  madrasa  last  named,  was  the  rendez- 
vous for  the  smiths  and  venders  of  hardware. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  out  of  Namangan.  Through 
the  frozen  mud  of  the  streets  the  wheels  of  a thousand  arbas 
had  cut  two  deep  ruts,  which  we  had  no  choice  but  to  follow. 
We  had  to  drive  slowly  all  the  way  to  the  Naryn,  the  source 
proper  of  the  Syr-daria,  jolting  and  shaking  the  whole  time. 

I.— 6 


82 


THROUGH  ASIA 


The  Naryn  was  crossed  close  to  the  confluence  of  its  princi- 
pal tributary,  the  Kara-daria,  by  a simple  wooden  bridge, 
which  is  destroyed  every  summer  by  the  rising  of  the  waters, 
and  has  to  be  rebuilt  annually.  From  the  village  of  Balikchi, 
on  its  left  bank,  the  driver  took  me  to  Min-bulak  on  the  Syr- 
daria.  Somewhat  higher  up,  this  river  sends  out  a curious 
bifurcating  arm,  the  Musulman-kul,  and  this  again  forms  a 
reed-grown  marsh,  Sari-su,  which  was  entirely  frozen  over, 
the  ice  being  covered  with  snow.  The  landscape  was  still 
desolate,  but  somewhat  diversified  in  places.  Occasionally  I 
saw  a flock  of  grazing  sheep,  but  what  it  was  they  were  eating 
I could  never  quite  make  out.  On  February  4th,  via  Yaz- 
auan,  I reached  Margelan,  the  chief  town  of  Fergana,  where 
the  governor.  General  Pavalo-Shveikovsky,  received  me  with 
great  courtesy.  During  the  twenty  days  I spent  in  his  house, 
occupied  in  completing  the  last  preparations  for  my  journey 
across  the  Pamirs,  he  showed  me  the  greatest  kindness  and 
gave  me  much  valuable  advice. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE  SVR-DARIA 

Pl't  before  I leave  Fergana  and  set  forth  on  the  adventur- 
ous winter  journey  across  the  Pamirs,  I will  give  a short 
summary  of  my  survey  of  the  Syr-daria  River. 

The  first  series  of  soundings,  which  I made  on  November 
25th,  1H93,  at  Kazalinsk,  gave  a volume  of  20,000  cubic  feet 
in  the  second;  the  depth  of  the  river  varied  between  6.^  feet 
and  10  feet;  the  average  dej)th  being  8 feet,  and  the  average 
velocity  2 feet  6 inches  in  the  second.  The  temperature  of 
the  water  was  31.3"  h'ahr.  (0.4°  C.).  The  air  was  quite  still,  and 
the  observations  were  made  from  a boat  at  six  jjoints  in  a 
direct  line  across  the  river,  the  boat  being  anchored  for  each 
sounding  and  measurement. 

Two  months  later,  on  January  27th,  1894,  I make  a similar 
series  of  observ^ations  at  Khojent.  The  temperature  of  the 
air  at  1.30  p.m.  was  26.8°  Fahr.  ( — 2.9°  C.).  A slight  wind  was 
blowing  from  the  east,  and  in  the  water  the  thermometer 
showed  32.9°  Fahr.  (0.5°  C.).  Along  the  right  bank  there 
was  a thin  sheet  of  ice  9 or  10  yards  wide  ; under  the  left 
a belt  18  yards  in  width;  both  had  formed  in  the  shelter  of 
the  bridge.  Above  and  below  this  there  was  no  ice  to  be 
seen,  except  a few  small  flakes  drifting  on  the  water,  which 
was  much  clearer  here  than  at  Kazalinsk.  Thanks  to  the 
bridge,  which  was  574  feet  in  length,  of  which  114  feet  were 
over  dry  land,  it  was  easy  to  get  the  width  of  the  river — 
namely,  430  feet.  The  observations  were  made,  like  those  at 
Kazalinsk,  at  six  points,  from  a boat  which  was  kept  in  posi- 
tion 65  yards  below  the  bridge  by  a rope.  The  depth  was 
measured  with  a pole  20  feet  long,  and  the  velocity,  as  usual, 
with  a stationarv  and  a free  float. 


84 


THROUGH  ASIA 


As  might  be  expected  from  the  rugged  character  of  the 
Fergana  valley,  the  greatest  depth,  and  consequently  the 
greatest  velocity,  of  the  river  were  not  far  from  the  right 
bank,  where  there  is  a steep,  detached  mountain  ridge; 
whereas  the  left  or  south  bank  is  comparatively  low.  All 
the  same,  it  is  sufficiently  high  above  the  current  to  make 
it  difficult  for  the  inhabitants  of  Khojent  to  get  their  water- 
supply  from  the  river  when  the  little  stream  Ak-su,  which 
flows  throimh  the  town,  fails. 

The  mean  depth  was  12  feet  8 inches  (maximum,  18  feet 
II  inches);  the  area  of  a vertical  section,  1720  square  feet; 
the  mean  velocity  of  the  current,  2 feet  6 inches  (maximum, 
3 feet  I inch)  in  the  second;  and  the  volume,  i 2,900  cubic  feet 
in  the  second.  The  space  between  the  bridge  and  the  surface 
of  the  water  was  20  feet  3 inches  ; but  on  the  piers  there  were 
marks  which  showed  the  water  to  have  been  nearly  14  feet  9 
inches  higher  the  previous  summer. 

It  may  seem  remarkable  that  I found  upward  of  7000 
cubic  feet  less  water  at  Khojent  than  at  Kazalinsk;  but  this 
fact  admits  of  a natural  explanation.  In  the  first  place,  the 
river  Chirchick,  near  Tashkend,  had  at  its  lowest  level  a vol- 
ume of  3500  cubic  feet;  then,  farther  down,  the  Syr-daria 
receives  several  tributaries  from  the  mountains  Kara-tau  and 
Talas-tau,  one  of  which,  the  river  Aris,  being,  as  I have  said 
before,  of  very  considerable  size.  Finally,  it  must  be  borne 
in  mind  that  the  river  is  deprived  of  very  little  water  for  the 
irrigation  canals  during  the  winter,  that  the  evaporation 
during  the  cold  season  is  inconsiderable,  that  at  its  lowest 
level  little  or  no  water  is  absorbed  by  the  marshes  at  the  sides 
of  the  river,  and  that,  finally,  the  observations  at  Khojent  were 
made  two  months  later  than  those  at  Kazalinsk. 

Tlie  Syr-daria  has  never  been  sounded  during  the  summer; 
but  we  may  fairly  conclude  that  at  that  season  of  the  year  the 
conditions  are  reversed  ; that  is  to  say,  that  the  volume  of 
water  at  Chinaz  (near  rashkend)  is  considerably  greater  than 
at  Kazalinsk. 

In  January,  1891,  on  my  return  journey  from  Kashgar  to 
Issyk-kul,  I had  an  opportunity  of  observing  what  enormous 


THK  SYR- DARIA 


niasses  of  snow  accumulate  during  the  winter  on  the  moun- 
tains south  of  Issyk-kul.  When  these  masses  melt  in  the 
s}u-ing  and  summer,  the  Naryn  becomes  a large  river,  foam- 
ing torrentially  along  its  rocky  bed  down  to  the  valley  of 
k'ertrana.  The  Kara-daria  also  becomes  a river  of  consider- 
able  dimensions,  although  the  snowfall  in  the  part  of  the 
rian-shan  Mountains  where  its  sources  are  situated  is  not  so 
great  as  in  the  tracts  south  of  Issyk-kul.  Like  the  Chirchick, 
the  Kara-daria  also  contributes  a large  volume  of  water  to  the 
Syr-daria,  so  that  at  Chinaz  the  latter  is  a noble  river  during 
the  spring  and  autumn  months,  though  it  does  not  outrival 
its  sister  river,  the  Amu-daria.  It  rolls  swiftly  through  the 
heated  steppe,  and  empties  its  waters  into  Lake  Aral.  The 
whole  of  its  water  does  not.  however,  reach  the  destination 
which  the  formation  of  the  country  would  naturally  seem  to 
prescribe  for  it.  Chinaz  lies  6io  feet  above  the  level  of  Lake 
Aral ; but  from  that  point  the  river  flows  a distance  of  882 
miles,  and  the  fall  is,  therefore,  only  8;j  inches  in  every  mile. 
The  water  has  plenty  of  time  to  evaporate,  a process  which 
takes  place  the  more  rapidly  as  during  the  summer  the  air  is 
excessively  hot  and  dry.  But  other  factors  are  at  work  to 
despoil  the  river.  Part  of  the  water  is  absorbed  by  the  soil ; 
another  part  is  used  for  irrigation ; a third,  and  very  consid- 
erable portion,  leaves  its  bed  and  forms,  particularly  on  the 
right  bank,  extensive  swamps  and  lakes.  The  largest  swamps 
extend  between  Kazalinsk  and  the  mouth  of  the  river.  Oth- 
ers occur  east  of  Perovsk  ; more  particularly  between  Perovsk 
and  Karmakchi,  where  the  reed-grown  Bokali-kopa  is  nearly 
2000  square  miles  in  area.  In  this  way,  then,  the  river  loses 
much  of  its  flood;  hence  it  may  easily  be  conceived  that  in 
summer  the  volume  of  water  is  much  greater  at  Chinaz  than 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river. 

Between  Min-bulak  and  Khojent  the  Syr-daria  was  crossed 
by  fifteen  ferries,  the  traffic  being  conveyed  across  by  twenty- 
seven  barges  hired  from  a Russian.  The  greatest  amount 
of  traffic  crosses  at  the  Shakhand  ferry;  there  the  earnings 
in  summer  amount  to  1200  roubles  (^120)  a month;  but  in 
winter  to  only  300  or  400  roubles  (^30  to  ^40).  An  arba 


86 


THROUGH  ASIA 


(cart)  laden  with  goods  pays  twenty-five  kopeks  {6^d.),  a loaded 
camel  fifteen  ^ horse  five  ^'icl  a foot-passenger 

two  (-W.)- 

At  Gu rum-serai,  one  of  the  most  important  of  the  ferries, 
I made  another  series  of  observations.  The  sky  being  clear 
and  the  atmosphere  still,  the  temperature  of  the  air  at  4.30 
p.M.  was  23.2°  Fahr.  (—4.9°  C.),  and  the  mean  temperature  of 
the  water  35.4°  Fahr.  (—1.9°  C.).  The  width  of  the  river, 
which  was  measured  trigonometrically,  was  640  feet.  The 
right  bank  was  low  and  flat;  the  left  very  steep,  10  feet  high, 
and  much  excavated  by  the  current.  The  greatest  depth  — 
viz.,  9 feet  5 inches — occurred  at  a distance  of  only  33  feet 
from  the  left  bank ; but,  remarkably  enough,  the  greatest 
velocity  (4  feet  i inch  in  the  second)  occurred  at  a distance 
of  only  16  feet  from  the  right  bank.  In  the  middle  of  the 
river  there  was  a sand-bank,  over  which  the  velocity  was  in- 
considerable. But  on  both  sides  of  it — that  is,  between  the 
sand-bank  and  the  river-banks,  where  the  deeper  places  were 
— the  velocity  was  much  greater. 

The  mean  depth  was  5 feet  3 inches ; area  of  vertical  sec- 
tion, 3070  scjuare  feet;  mean  velocity,  2 feet  7 inches  in  the 
second;  and  volume,  7850  cubic  feet  in  the  second.  The 
great  difference  of  5050  cubic  feet  between  Khojent  and 
Gurum-serai  is  striking,  jDarticularly  as  the  river  just  at  this 
part  does  not  take  up  any  tributary  worth  mentioning;  but, 
as  I shall  point  out  shortly,  this  is  explicable  from  modifying 
conditions  of  temperature  and  rainfall. 

On  the  way  from  Namangan  to  Margelan  I crossed  the 
lower  Naryn  at  the  kishlak  (winter  village)  of  Jidda-kbjib,  and 
the  lower  Kara-daria  between  the  two  villages  of  Chuja  and 
Balihchi.  Resjiecting  the  two  tributaries  of  the  Syr-daria, 
it  is  generally  stated  that  the  Naryn  is  the  more  voluminous 
and  the  Kara-daria  the  swifter.  In  jioint  of  fact,  the  Kara- 
daria  is  always  the  swifter,  for  within  a distance  of  ninety- 
one  miles  from  Usghen  (3220  feet)  to  Chuja  (1310  feet)  it 
falls  1910  feet,  or  21  feet  in  every  mile,  d'he  Naryn,  on 
the  other  hand,  in  a distance  of  eighty-seven  miles — that  is 
to  say,  from  a jjoint  near  the  ruins  of  the  fortress  of  Ketmen- 


VWE  SVR-DARIA 


^^7 

tube  (2800  feet)  to  Jidda-kojio  (1310  feet) — falls  only  1490  feet, 
or  17  feet  in  every  mile.  .Although  these  differences  in  al- 
titude are  not  very  great,  they  are  so  far  appreciable  that  the 
Kara-daria,  even  in  its  lower  reaches,  is  somewhat  swifter 
than  the  Naryn.  The  other  assertion,  on  the  contrary,  is  not 
always  right,  for  during  the  winter  the  Kara-daria  is  always 
much  larger  than  the  Xaryn,  sometimes  even  twice  as  large. 
This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Naryn  tiows  through  a 
more  northern  and  colder  tract,  and  because  it  is  on  all  sides 
surrounded  bv  chains  of  high  mountains,  in  which  severe 
cold  obtains;  while  the  Kara-daria  has  a more  southerly 
course,  through  the  eastern  extension  of  the  Fergana  valley, 
where  the  winter  temperature  is  considerably  milder,  and 
high  mountains  protect  it  from  the  cold  north  winds. 

The  volume  of  the  Narvn  diminishes  also  owing  to  a larije 
quantity  of  its  drainage  supply  being  locked  up  in  the  form 
of  ice.  This  is  particularly  the  case  with  regard  to  the  small 
streams  and  tributaries  which  flow  through  the  hi<jh  side 
vallevs.  In  the  tract  through  which  the  Kara-daria  flows, 
the  winter  temperature,  on  the  contrary,  is  not  so  low,  and 
the  river,  therefore,  receives  during  the  cold  period  of  the 
year  a comparatively  large  quantity  of  water,  although  here 
again  the  snowfall  is  less.  The  Kara-daria  is  thus  deprived 
of  a smaller  quantity  of  its  water  through  the  formation  of 
ice  than  the  Naryn.  In  the  spring,  as  soon  as  the  ice  and 
snow  on  the  mountains  surrounding  the  Naryn  begin  to 
melt,  the  river  rises,  and  in  a short  time  becomes  much  larger 
than  its  sister  stream,  which  has  not  been  able  to  collect  any 
great  provision  of  ice  and  snow  within  its  bounds  during  the 
winter. 

The  pile  - bridges  that  the  Sarts  have  built  across  the 
Naryn  and  tlve  Kara-daria  greatly  simplified  the  task  of 
sounding  those  two  rivers.  On  February  2d,  at  two  in  the 
afternoon,  the  weather  being  favorable  and  the  temperature 
21.9°  Fahr.  (—5.6°  C.),  I made  the  following  observations  in 
the  Naryn; 

The  mean  depth  was  5 feet  10  inches  (maximum,  8 feet  7 
inches);  the  area  of  the  vertical  section,  840  square  feet; 


88 


THROUGH  ASIA 


mean  velocity,  3 feet  8 inches  (maximum,  4 feet  6 inches); 
and  the  volume  of  water,  3070  cubic  feet.  The  greatest 
depth  and  the  greatest  velocity  occurred  on  the  right  side  of 
the  river;  and  there,  too,  the  stream  was  loaded  with  large 
quantities  of  packed  ice.  The  greatest  quantity  of  drift-ice 
I found  in  a current  only  12  yards  from  the  right  bank;  thus 
it  did  not  follow,  as  might  be  expected,  the  swiftest  current, 
which  was  25  yards  out  from  the  same  bank. 

About  one  mile  to  the  south  I crossed  the  Kara-daria, 
about  a couple  of  hours  later,  and  I then  made  the  following- 
observations  in  that  river:  mean  depth,  5 feet,  3 inches; 
maximum  depth,  10  feet  ii  inches;  area  of  vertical  section, 
1220  square  feet;  mean  velocity,  3 feet  10  inches  (maxi- 
mum, 4 feet  6 inches) ; volume  of  water,  4700  cubic  feet. 

Together,  therefore,  the  Naryn  and  the  Kara-daria  carried 
7770  cubic  feet  of  water,  or  almost  precisely  the  quantity  I 
found  in  the  Syr-daria  at  Gurum-serai. 

Comparing  the  two  streams,  it  will  be  found  that  the 
Kara-daria  is  9 feet  broader  than  the  Naryn,  but  as  a rule  is 
shallower,  while  the  maximum  depth  is  greater.  In  both 
rivers  the  maximum  depth  is  near  the  right  bank,  and  in 
both  the  greatest  velocity  of  the  current  occurs  to  the  left 
of  the  greatest  depth.  In  both  the  right  bank  is  much  more 
eroded  than  the  left.  It  is  also  higher  and  steeper;  the  left 
bank  sloping  up  gently  and  gradually  from  the  water’s  edge. 
The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  Syr-daria  at  Khojent. 

These  conditions  seem  to  be  dependent  upon  the  tenden- 
cy which  the  river  shows  to  shift  its  channel  to  the  right. 
In  1892  there  was  unmistakable  proof  that  the  Naryn  in  its 
lower  reaches  also  exhibited  the  same  tendency.  Nearly 
seven  miles  above  Utch-kurgan  the  Naryn  quits  its  trans- 
verse valley  and  flows  through  the  level  valley  of  Fergana. 
As  soon  as  the  river  leaves  its  deep,  sharply  defined,  rocky 
bed,  it  becomes  broad  and  shallow,  and  is  filled  with  shoals 
and  islets  of  sand,  and  only  confines  itself  to  one  bed  for 
short  distances,  and  that  when  the  water  is  lowest. 

About  a mile  below  Utch-kurgan  the  Yanghi  - arik,  the 
largest  irrigation  canal  that  carries  water  to  the  rice-fields  of 


THE  SYR-DARIA 


89 


the  district  of  Namangan,  branches  off  from  the  right  bank 
of  the  river.  At  the  same  time  the  Naryn  itself  shows  a 
tendency  to  break  through  and  join  the  Yanghi-arik,  which, 
if  accomplished,  would  naturally  prove  very  disastrous  to  the 
agriculturists  in  that  fruitful  region.  To  prevent  this,  the 
Russian  government  in  1893  built  four  dams  in  the  river,  at 
risht  angles  to  the  right  bank,  so  as  to  force  the  water  back 
to  its  proper  channel.  The  highest  dam  uj)  the  stream  was 
141  feet  long,  the  lowest  942  feet;  the  first  three  were  33 
feet  broad,  the  fourth  and  lowest  20  feet.  They  were  all 
constructed  of  piles,  stones,  and  fascines.  The  work  was 
done  in  two  months  by  a Russian  officer  with  200  to  400 
Sart  workmen,  and  cost  about  18,000  roubles  (^1800).  In 
the  dead  water  below  each  dam  large  quantities  of  sand  and 
mud  quickly  accumulated,  in  places  to  such  a degree  that  it 
was  possible  to  plant  trees,  with  the  view  of  imjjarting  a 
greater  power  of  resistance  to  the  structure.  This  fact  plain- 
ly shows  that  at  this  point  the  river  manifests  a strong  ten- 
dency to  trend  to  the  right. 

On  the  way  from  Min-bulak  to  Margelan  I observed  in 
several  places  traces  of  former  river-beds.  The  largest  was 
the  Sari-su,  which  flowed  into  the  reed-grown  marsh  of  the 
same  name.  At  the  time  of  my  visit  it  was  entirely  frozen, 
a sheet  of  glittering  ice.  It  is  very  probable  that  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  Musulman-kul  arik,  farther  east,  is  an  old 
bed  of  the  Syr-daria. 

South  of  the  Syr-daria,  between  the  meridians  of  Kokand 
and  Margelan,  there  is  an  unbroken  string  of  marshy  lakes 
— Atchi-kul,  Dam-kul,  and  Sari-su.  In  the  spring  these  are 
fed  with  water  from  the  river  through  the  old  discarded 
river-beds  ; the  surplus  water  from  the  ariks  (irrigation  canals) 
of  Andijan  also  flows  into  them.  South  of  these  marshy 
tracts  stretches  the  desert.  North  of  the  Syr-daria,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  are  no  swamps  or  ancient  river-beds; 
though  in  the  lower  course  of  the  river  there  are  marshes 
and  lagoons,  for  the  greater  part  situated  on  the  right  bank. 
Here  again  we  find  plain  indications  that  the  river  is  trend- 
ing to  the  right  or  northeast.  For  a distance  of  close  upon 


90 


THROUGH  ASIA 


400  miles,  from  Kazalinsk  to  Tash-suat,  the  post-road  runs 
close  beside  the  right  bank.  Several  station-houses,  which 
were  originally  built  at  a certain  distance  from  the  river,  have 
now  been  reached  by  it,  and  some  of  them  have  had  to  be 
abandoned  and  new  ones  built  at  a greater  distance  from 
the  bank. 

On  further  comparison  between  the  Naryn  and  the  Kara- 
daria,  I found  that  the  Naryn  carries  a large  quantity  of  drift- 
ice;  while  in  the  Kara-daria,  on  the  contrary,  there  is  not  a 
trace  of  it.  The  water  of  the  Naryn  was  almost  clear  and 
transparent;  that  of  the  Kara-daria  turbid  and  impure.  The 
water  of  the  Naryn  had  a mean  temperature  of  32.2°  Fahr. 
(o.i°C.);  in  the  sister  river  the  thermometer  showed  37.9“ 
Fahr.  (3.3°  C.).  The  quantity  of  sedimentary  matter  is,  natu- 
rally, partly  dependent  on  the  varying  nature  of  the  country 
through  which  the  rivers  flow,  partly  on  the  volume  of  the 
streams  and  their  rate  of  fall,  possibly  also  on  the  tempera- 
tures of  their  waters. 

Finally,  I must  add  a few  words  as  to  the  influence  which 
the  volume  of  water  in  the  Naryn  and  the  Kara-daria  had  on 
the  Syr-daria  at  Min-bulak,  Gurum- serai,  and  Khojent.  I 
wished  to  take  another  series  of  soundings  at  Min-bulak;  but 
unfortunately  the  ferry  was  so  arranged  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  keep  the  boat  still  on  the  river.  The  width  was  590 
feet.  Eleven  yards  from  the  left  shore  the  depth  was  4 feet 
1 1 inches,  and  the  velocity  of  the  current  not  less  than  4 feet 
10  inches  in  the  second  ; 22  yards  from  the  right  bank  the 
depth  was  4 feet  9 inches,  and  the  velocity  only  i foot  10 
inches.  In  about  the  middle  of  the  river  the  depth  was  8 
feet  2 inches. 

The  differences  of  temperature  and  color  of  the  water  in 
different  places  furnished  materials  for  some  interesting  con- 
clusions. On  the  right  bank  of  the  Syr-daria  the  thermome- 
ter showed  34°  Fahr.  (i.i°C.) ; sixty-five  yards  out,  34.7°  Fahr. 
(1.5°  C) ; sixty-five  yards  from  the  left  bank,  35.8”  Fahr.  (2.1° 
C.) ; while  close  under  the  same  bank  it  was  36.1°  b'ahr.  (2.3° 
C.).  Here  the  river  was  steaming  at  ii  a.  m.,  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  air  being  14.5°  b'ahr.  ( — 9.7°  C.).  That  is  to  say. 


rHK  SYR-DARIA 


9' 


tliick  columns  of  vaj)or  rose  into  tlic  air  ; and  the  ferry-man 
told  me  that  early  in  the  morning  the  mist  is  so  dense  that 
the  ferry-boat  vanishes  from  sight  a few  yards  from  the  shore. 
The  phenomenon  appeared  to  be  very  common  at  this  time 
of  the  year.  On  the  right  bank,  where  the  cold  water  flowed, 
the  river  did  not  steam  at  all.  There,  on  the  contrary,  a 
strip  of  water  i6  yards  in  breadth  was  of  the  same  clear, 
li'dit-ereen  color  as  the  water  of  the  Naryn ; but  outside  this 
belt  the  water  suddenly  became  muddy,  and  continued  so 
right  across  to  the  left  bank — exactly  as  in  the  Kara-daria, 
This  jn-oves  that  at  the  distance  of  4.I  miles  below  their  con- 
fluence the  two  currents  have  not  commingled,  or  rather  that 
the  warm  muddy  water  of  the  Kara-daria  sjn-eads  over  the 
cold  clear  water  of  the  Naryn,  except  for  a narrow  belt  near 
the  right  bank.  The  fact  that  lower  down  the  latter  in- 
creases a whole  degree  in  warmth  in  such  a short  distance  is 
naturally  due  to  its  close  contact  with  the  warmer  water  of 
the  Kara-daria. 

At  Gurum -serai  the  temperature  of  the  water,  as  I men- 
tioned before,  was  everywhere  35.4°  Fahr.  (1.9°  C.),  and  the 
same  muddy  color  prevailed  across  its  entire  breadth  ; more- 
over, the  river  was  quite  free  from  ice.  Even  without  the 
aid  of  calorimetry  these  phenomena  prove  that  the  current 
of  the  Kara-daria  is  more  powerful  than  the  current  of  the 
Naryn,  and  that  in  the  intervening  55  miles  all  the  drift-ice 
has  time  to  melt.  That  the  conditions  were  the  same  on 
January  30th  and  February  2d  is  proved  by  the  volume  of 
water  being  the  same  in  both  cases.  At  Khojent,  on  the 
contrary,  the  conditions  v’ere  very  different.  In  the  first 
place,  the  volume  of  the  water  was  5050  cubic  feet  greater 
than  at  Gurum  - serai.  The  temperature  of  the  water  was 
only  32.9°  Fahr.  (0.5°  C.);  that  is  to  say,  more  than  two  de- 
grees and  a half  colder  than  at  Gurum-serai,  which  is  no 
miles  distant  from  Khojent.  Finally,  the  water  was  much 
clearer  than  at  Gurum  - serai,  and  carried  a not  inconsider- 
able quantity  of  drift-ice.  For  this  reason  the  bulk  of  the 
current  flowing  through  the  bed  of  the  Syr-daria  at  Khojent 
on  January  27th  consisted  of  Naryn  water;  for  it  possessed 


92 


THROUGH  ASIA 


generally  the  same  characteristics  as  the  latter — it  was  cold, 
clear,  and  charged  with  drift-ice. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  temperature  of  the  air  sank.  On 
January  30th,  at  nine  in  the  morning,  at  Chust,  I read  11.7° 
Fahr.  (—11.2°  C.).  At  Namangan,  on  February  ist,  at  eight 
in  the  morning,  14.9°  Fahr.  ( — 9.5°  C.);  and  the  following  day, 
at  the  same  place  and  time,  12.9°  Fahr.  (— 10.6°  C.). 

The  temperature  had,  without  doubt,  fallen  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  to  a very  great  extent.  The  tributaries  of  the 
Naryn,  and  even  the  Naryn  itself  in  part,  began  to  freeze; 
the  river  was  thus  much  reduced  and  became  less  than  the 
Kara-daria.  The  S3U'-daria  dropped  rapidly,  and  at  Gurum- 
serai  its  volume  was  5000  cubic  feet  less  than  on  any  pre- 
vious day. 

It  is  no  doubt  astonishing  that  the  volume  of  a river  can 
decrease  to  so  great  an  extent  in  such  a short  space  of  time ; 
but  it  is  a common  phenomenon,  and  admits  of  easy  explana- 
tion. The  chief  of  the  district  of  Namanoan  told  me  that 

o 

the  Naryn  often  rose  there  ten  feet  during  the  course  of  five 
days,  and  fell  again  afterwards  just  as  rapidly.  This  phenom- 
enon always  takes  place  after  violent  and  continuous  rain  in 
the  neighboring  mountains.  As  I hav^e  mentioned  previous- 
ly, it  cannot  be  affirmed  positively  that  the  Naryn  is  always 
the  larger  of  the  two  rivers,  for  their  respective  volumes 
change  with  the  seasons — i.e.,  with  the  changes  of  tempera- 
ture and  the  rainfall  in  the  country  through  which  they  re- 
spectively flow. 

'I'he  Syr-daria  does  not  freeze  at  any  point  of  its  course 
through  Fergana;  but  at  Chinaz  it  often  forms  ice  so  thick 
that  it  will  bear  the  post-troikas. 


A WINTER  JOURNEY  OVER  THE  PAMIRS 


CHAPTHR  VIII 


UP  THE  ISFATRAX  VALLEY 

Ox  the  borderlands  between  IVast  and  West  Turkestan  the 
earth’s  crust  is  thrust  upward  into  a lofty  plateau  or  moun- 
tain-knot of  gigantic  dimensions,  k'rom  it  radiate  some  of 
the  most  stupendous  mountain-ranges  in  the  world,  eastward 
the  Kwcn-lun,  southeastward  the  Himalayas,  and  between 
these  two  the  Kara-korum  Mountains,  stretching  into  Tibet. 
From  the  same  elevated  region  the  Tian  - shan  highlands 
branch  off  towards  the  northeast,  and  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, towards  the  southwest,  the  Hindu-kush  Mountains.  It 
is  here  that  several  authorities  place  the  home  of  the  first 
parents  of  our  race.  The  traditions  of  a dim  and  distant  an- 
tiquity declare  that  the  four  sacred  rivers  of  Paradise,  men- 
tioned in  the  Bible,  had  their  origin  in  these  sublime  alti- 
tudes. The  people  of  High  Asia  still  revere  the  Pamirs, 
callincT  them  the  Roof  of  the  World,  and  re^ardincr  them  as 
the  coio'n  of  vantag^e  from  which  the  towering^  mountain- 
giants  look  abroad  over  the  whole  world. 

Until  quite  recently  the  Pamirs  were,  politically,  subject  to 
the  Khans  of  Kokand.  But  when  Khodiar  Khan,  the  last 
ruler  of  the  country,  was  deprived  of  both  kingdom  and 
crown  by  his  powerful  neighbor  on  the  north,  Russia,  she 
also  laid  claim  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  Pamirs.  For  some 
time,  however,  as  they  were  both  difficult  of  access  and  al- 
most uninhabited,  she  bestowed  but  little  attention  upon 
them.  This  indifference  on  the  part  of  the  Russians  gave 
encouragement  to  the  adjacent  states  to  annex  one  portion 
after  another  of  the  former  territories  of  the  Khans.  The 
Afghans  occupied  Badakshan  and  Shugnan,  overran  Ro- 
shan  and  Wakhan,  and  in  the  last-mentioned  district  built 


96 


THROUGH  ASIA 


strong  posts  of  observation  all  along  the  river  Panj.  The 
Chinese  took  possession  of  the  frontier  districts  on  the  east, 
and  the  British  established  themselves  in  Chitral  and  Kanjut. 
But  the  Russians  were  not  unobservant  of  what  was  soin^ 
on.  In  the  year  1891  Colonel  Yonnoff,  with  a force  of  some- 
thing like  1000  Cossacks,  and  a long  train  of  pack-animals, 
carrying  commissariat  and  ammunition  stores,  and  even  ma- 
chine-guns, started  from  Margelan,  and  marched  right  over 
the  Pamirs  to  the  Hindu-kush,  as  far  as  the  Baroghil  pass, 
where  he  came  into  collision  with  a small  Afghan  outpost. 
A short  time  afterwards  he  built,  on  the  river  Murghab,  the 
fort  Shah  Jan,  a name  which  was  subsequently  changed  to 
Fort  Pamir.  There  he  left  behind  a permanent  garrison  of 
two  or  three  hundred  Cossacks  to  watch  over  the  interests  of 
his  country. 

This  was  the  origin  of  the  Pamir  Question,  the  subject  of 
so  much  animated  discussion  in  the  immediately  succeeding 
year.  And  thus  the  region  of  the  Pamirs,  hitherto  shrouded 
and  almost  forgotten  among  the  arctic-like  severities  of  the 
heart  of  Asia,  became  the  object  of  the  liveliest  interest,  the 
focus  of  political  and  strategic  movements  of  a momentous 
character. 

Certain  portions  of  the  Pamirs  were,  however,  left  unclaimed, 
abandoned  to  the  few  Kirghiz  who  were  content  to  stay  there 
and  struggle  for  e.xistence  against  the  bitter  cold.  These 
nomads  acknowledged  no  man’s  sovereignty  and  paid  no 
tribute;  although  each  of  their  neighbors  around  them  laid 
claim  to  it,  and  possessed  frontier  garrisons  strong  enough  to 
enforce  their  claim.  But  they  were  all  fully  conscious  of  the 
fact  that  a movement  in  that  direction  by  any  one  of  them 
would  be  the  signal  for  hostilities;  and  though  all  the  three 
powers  were  ready  to  fight,  none  wished  to  incur  the  grave 
responsibility  of  taking  the  first  decisive  stej). 

During  the  course  of  my  stay  with  Baron  Vrevsky,  gover- 
nor-general of  Russian  Turkestan,  we  had  many  conversa- 
tions together  about  the  Pamirs,  the  outcome  of  which  was 
that  I conceived  the  idea  of  crossing  that  region  on  my  way 
to  Kashgar.  But  no  sooner  did  I mention  my  jnirpose  than. 


UP  THE  ISFAIRAN  VALLEY 


97 


almost  with  one  accord,  wcllnioh  every  voice  was  raised  to 
dissuade  me  from  it.  The  ofificers  who  liad  taken  part  in 
Colonel  Vonnoffs  reconnaissance  across  the  Pamirs  proph- 
esied that  I should  have  a dangerous  journey,  and  advised 
me  to  wait  two  or  three  months  longer.  One  of  these  gen- 
tlemen, a captain,  who  had  spent  the  previous  winter  on  the 
Murghab,  earnestly  represented  that  I should  be  e.xposing 
mvself  to  the  greatest  possible  dangers,  and  running  a grave 
risk  from  the  severities  of  the  winter  climate.  Nobody,  he 
said,  not  even  a native  of  the  P'ar  North,  could  form  any  con- 
ception of  the  intensity  of  the  cold  and  the  fury  of  the  snow- 
storms which  rage  on  the  Pamirs  in  the  depth  of  winter. 
Even  in  the  middle  of  summer,  during  a snow-buran  (hurri- 
cane), the  thermometer  frequently  drops  to  14'"  P"ahr.  ( — 20°  C.). 
In  the  winter  of  1892-93  the  temjierature  fell  to  -45.4°  Fahr. 
( — 43°  C.)  in  the  end  of  January,  and  snow-storms  were  an 
everv  - day  occurrence.  These  burans  or  snow  - hurricanes 
come  on  with  startling  suddenness.  One  minute  the  sky  will 
be  perfectly  clear;  scarcely  one  minute  later,  and  down  swoops 
the  storm.  In  an  instant  the  path  is  obliterated.  The  at- 
mosphere grows  dark  with  whirling  snow-flakes.  It  is  im- 
possible to  see  a yard  before  you.  All  you  can  do  is  to  stand 
perfectly  still,  wrap  your  furs  about  you,  and  thank  God  if 
} OLi  escape  with  your  life. 

One  piece  of  advice  the  captain  insisted  upon  above  all 
else — that  I should  never  on  any  account  separate  myself 
from  my  caravan  during  the  march.  If  at  such  a moment  a 
buran  were  to  sweep  down  upon  me,  I should  be  hopelessly 
lost.  It  would  be  impossible  to  get  back  to  my  followers, 
even  though  they  were  no  more  than  a dozen  paces  away. 
The  air  becomes  thick  and  black  with  blinding  flakes. 
Nothing  can  be  seen — nothing;  you  have  hard  work  to  see 
even  the  horse  you  ride.  To  shout  is  useless.  Not  a sound 
can  be  heard,  not  even  the  report  of  a rifle.  All  echoes  are 
completely  drowned  in  the  roar  of  the  hurricane.  The  un- 
happy traveller  who  has  the  ill-fortune  to  be  thus  caught 
alone,  without  tent  or  provisions,  furs  or  felts,  may  resign 
himself  to  the  inevitable — his  fate  sealed.  Neither  Colonel 
1—7 


98 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Yonnoff  nor  Captain  Vannofsky  en\’ied  me  my  journey  in 
the  smallest  degree ; and  yet  both  were  experienced  travel- 
lers, well  acquainted  with  the  fascinating  perils  of  travel  on 
the  Pamirs.  Both  were  of  one  mind  in  warning  me  to  pre- 
])are  for  a hard  campaign. 

And  yet  there  were  two  men  who  did  not  see  my  project 
in  such  dark  colors — namely,  General  V revsky  and  Major- 
General  Pavalo-Shveikovsky,  the  governor  of  Fergana.  In- 
stead of  throwing  cold  water  on  my  plan,  they  encouraged 
me  in  it,  and  promised  to  do  all  that  lay  in  their  power  to 
render  it  as  practicable  and  as  easy  as  possible.  Both  kept 
their  promise  in  a most  gratifying  way. 

A week  before  the  day  I had  fixed  for  starting  from  Mar- 
gelan,  the  governor  of  I'ergana,  at  the  suggestion  of  Baron 
Vrevsky,  sent  jighits  (Sart  couriers)  to  the  Kirghiz  who 
were  wintering  in  the  valleys  of  the  Alai  Mountains,  com- 
manding them  to  give  me  a friendly  welcome,  to  provide 
yurts  (tents)  at  certain  places  and  times  arranged  for,  to 
furnish  me  with  supplies  of  food  and  fuel,  to  send  people 
on  in  advance  to  clear  the  road  through  the  snow,  and 
hew  steps  in  the  ice  which  coated  the  narrow  and  danger- 
ous mountain -paths  of  the  Alai'  Mountains,  and  in  gen- 
eral to  render  all  needful  assistance  in  guiding  the  caravan 
and  getting  forward  the  baggage  from  station  to  station. 
Mounted  messengers  were  likewise  desjiatched  to  the  Mur- 
ghab ; besides  which  I also  carried  letters  to  the  commandant 
of  that  post,  and  to  the  Chinese  officer  at  Bulun-kul  near  the 
frontier.  The  jighits  were  further  directed  to  acconq^any 
me  the  whole  way.  In  a word,  I met  with  nothing  but  the 
most  generous  assistance  at  Margelan  in  completing  the 
equipment  of  my  caravan,  and  in  making  jireparations  for 
my  journey. 

d'he  route  which  I mapped  out  before  starting  led  over 
the  Ala'i  Mountains  by  the  pass  of  'Penghiz-bai,  then  uj)  the 
Ala'i  valley  alongside  the  Kizil-su  (river),  climbed  the  Trans- 
Ala'i  range,  and  went  down  by  the  pass  of  Kizil-art  to  the 
lake  of  Kara-kul,  over  that  lake,  through  the  ]iass  of  Ak- 
baital,  and  so  on  to  I'ort  Pamir  on  the  Murghab.  The  en- 


UP  TIIK  ISFAIRAX  VALLHV 


99 


tire  distance  amounted  to  over  300  miles,  and  was  divided 
into  eighteen  short  days’  marches,  with  five  days  extra  for 
rest,  as  set  forth  in  the  subjoined  table: 


From  Margelan  to  Utch-Kurgan  23  miles 

To  Austan • ' 5 “ 

Langar  . . . . 26.I  ” 

••  Tenghiz-liai  .17 

" 1 )araut-kurgan  iC>  " 

" Kizil-unkur 14I  " 

••  Kur-gur  ( Kashka  su)  ...  . . 1 7 " 

••  Jipptik  . . . . ...  16.1  •• 

••  Archa-bulak '3 

Bor-cloba  ...  18 

••  K.ok-sai . . 18  *' 

••  Kara-kul  (north  shore)  ...  16.I  “ 

Kara  kul  (south  shore) 13 

••  Mus-kol ...  18 

*■  Ak-baital 12 

••  Rabat  Xo.  i 15 

“ Chicheckli i6.t  " 

Fort  Pamir 17 


At  each  of  the  stations — Austan,  Daraut-kurgan,  Archa- 
bulak,  Kara-kul,  and  Rabat  Xo.  i — I proposed  to  rest  one 
day,  so  as  not  to  overtask  the  horses.  This  programme  was 
carried  out  on  the  whole  with  tolerable  fidelity.  A few  devi- 
ations in  points  of  detail,  rendered  necessary  by  circum- 
stances, were  the  only  changes  that  were  made. 

I hired  horses  from  an  old  Sart  trader  at  the  rate  of  a 
rouble  (about  2s.)  a day  for  each — seven  baggage  animals, 
and  one  saddle  - horse  for  myself.  It  would  have  come 
cheaper  to  buy  them,  and  sell  them  again  in  Kashgar.  But, 
according  to  the  agreement  I made,  I incurred  no  responsi- 
bility for  loss  or  injury  to  the  animals,  and  was  under  no  ob- 
ligation in  the  matter  of  feeding  them  or  attending  to  them. 
These  duties  were  performed  by  two  men,  who  took  with 
them  three  additional  horses  carrying  supplies  of  forage. 
A jighit  named  Rehim  Bai,  an  active,  weather-beaten  little 
fellow,  who  had  braved  wind  and  sun  and  cold  throughout 
many  a long  journey  in  Central  Asia,  was  appointed  my 


lOO 


THROUGH  ASIA 


right-hand  man.  In  addition  to  his  experience  of  Asiatic 
travel,  he  was  an  excellent  cook  and  spoke  Russian.  I gave 
him  twenty-five  roubles  a month,  together  with  rations  and 
“ lodging.”  He  had  to  provide  himself  with  a horse  and 
winter  felts.  But  on  this  journey  he  came  near  to  losing  his 
life,  and  left  me  at  Kashgar. 

Wdien  Rehim  fell  ill,  his  place  was  taken  by  one  of  the 
two  horsemen  who  accompanied  him,  Islam  Bai,  whose  home 


. ■! 
• fl 


KN  ROUTE  FROM  MARGKLAN  TO  THE  ALAI  MOUNTAINS 


was  at  Osh,  in  I'ergana.  Islam  proved  the  better  man  of  the 
two,  and  throughout  the  entire  journey  served  me  with  a 
fidelity  and  devotion  which  merit  the  warmest  jjraise.  d'he 
following  pages  will  best  show  how  great  is  the  debt  of 
gratitude  I owe  to  this  man.  When  he  first  came  to  me  I 
was  a perfect  stranger  to  him,  and  he  had  no  conception  of 
the  real  object  of  my  journey.  Nevertheless,  he  willingly 
left  his  peaceful  home  in  Osh  to  share  with  me  all  the  dan- 
gers and  ])crils  of  a jn'otracted  journey  through  the  heart  of 
Asia.  We  travelled  side  by  side  through  the  terrible  Desert 


UP  tup:  isfairax  vallf:y 


lOI 


of  Gobi,  facing  its  sand-storms  in  company,  and  nearly  per- 
ishing of  thirst;  and  when  my  other  attendants  fell  by  the 
side  of  the  track,  overcome  by  the  hardships  of  the  journey, 
Islam  Bai,  with  unselfish  devotion,  stuck  to  my  maps  and 
drawings,  and  was  thus  instrumental  in  saving  what  I so 
highly  prized.  When  we  scaled  the  snowy  precipices,  he 
was  always  in  the  van,  leading  the  way.  lie  guided  the  car- 
avan with  a sure  hand  through  the  foaming  torrents  of  the 
Pamirs.  lie  kept  faithful  and  vigilant  watch  when  the 
Tanguts  threatened  to  molest  us.  In  a word,  the  .services 
this  man  rendered  me  were  incalculable.  But  for  him  I can 
truthfully  say  that  my  journey  would  not  have  had  such  a 
fortunate  termination  as  it  had.  It  gratifies  me  to  be  able 
to  add  that  King  Oscar  of  Sweden  graciously  honored  him 
with  a gold  medal,  which  Islam  Bai  now  wears  with  no  small 
degree  of  pride. 

I left  behind  at  Margelan  a cpiantity  of  stores  and  equip- 
ments for  which  I had  no  further  need,  including  the  vener- 
able Orenburg  tarantass,  which  I had  hitherto  used,  and  mv 
European  trunks.  In  place  of  these  last  I bought  some 
Sart  yakhtans — that  is,  wooden  boxes  covered  with  leather, 
and  so  constructed  that  they  could  be  conveniently  slung  on 
horseback  like  a pair  of  panniers.  I purchased  the  needful 
saddles,  furs,  and  Pamir  boots  made  of  felt  and  untanned 
leather,  and  laid  in  a stock  of  extra  provisions.  I also  took 
with  me  two  steel  spades  to  dig  out  the  snow  with  when 
putting  up  the  tent ; and  ice-axes  and  pickaxes  to  help  us  up 
the  steep  ice-coated  precipices.  When  we  crossed  over  the 
frozen  lake  of  Kara-kul,  I intended  taking  soundings,  and 
for  this  purpose  provided  myself  with  a new  hempen  cord, 
500  yards  long,  with  ten -yard  lengths  knotted  off,  and  a 
sinker  at  the  end.  The  plane-table  stand  was  so  constructed 
that,  with  the  addition  of  a Caucasian  burkha  (cloak  or 
mantle),  it  could  be  converted  into  a temporary  tent  in  case 
we  were  surprised  by  a snow-storm. 

On  February  2 2d,  1894,  the  string  of  horses  started  in 
charge  of  the  jighits  for  Utch-kurgan.  One  horse  was 
laden  with  photographic  materials,  packed  in  two  yakhtans 


102 


THROUGH  ASIA 


(boxes);  a second  carried  my  topographical  and  other  in- 
struments, books,  and  the  medicine-chest ; the  third,  the 
ammunition-chests;  the  fourth  and  fifth,  the  commissariat 
supplies;  the  sixth  and  seventh,  my  weapons  and  personal 
belongings.  Last  of  all,  at  the  tail-end  of  the  caravan,  were 
the  three  horses  carrying  forage  for  the  others,  one  of  them 
almost  buried  from  sight  under  two  enormous  bags  stuffed 
with  straw. 

Two  guides  on  foot  went  on  first,  and  directed  the  horses 
wherever  necessary.  The  jighits  rode.  As  the  long,  im- 
posing-looking caravan  filed  away  out  of  the  yard  of  the 
governor’s  palace,  I stood  and  watched  it  with  not  a little 
pride.  I did  not  accompany  it,  but  spent  that  night  at 
Margelan,  the  last  I was  to  see  of  European  civilization 
for  many  a month  to  come.  That  evening  everybody  in 
Margelan  assembled  within  the  governor's  hospitable  walls 
to  bid  me  farewell.  What  a contrast  to  the  evenings  which 
immediately  followed ! 

At  eight  o’clock  on  the  following  morning,  after  a last 
word  in  dear  old  Swedish  with  General  Matveyeff  and  Lieu- 
tenant Kivekas,  both  light-hearted  sons  of  Finland,  and  a 
hearty  send-off  from  the  hospitable  governor  and  his  charm- 
ing family,  I said  good-bye  to  Margelan,  and  cantered  away 
after  my  caravan.  I caught  up  to  it  at  Utch-kurgan.  The 
distance  was  only  23  miles;  and  yet  even  in  that  distance 
the  contour  of  the  ground  rose  1100  feet,  up  to  an  altitude 
of  some  3000  feet  above  sea-level. 

Utch-kurgan  is  a large  village  picturesquely  situated  on 
the  river  Isfairan,  at  the  j)oint  where  it  emerges  from  the 
northern  declix’ities  of  the  Alai  Mountains.  I was  received 
with  a flattering  welcome.  A mile  or  two  outside  of  the 
village  I was  met  by  the  volastuoi  (native  district  chief)  of 
the  place,  accomj^anied  by  his  colleague,  the  volastuoi  of 
Austan,  a j)lace  higher  iij)  in  the  mountains.  The  former 
was  a Sart,  the  latter  a Kirghiz.  Both  wore  their  gala  kha- 
lats  (coats)  of  dark-blue  cloth,  white  turbans,  belts  of  chased 
silver,  and  scimitars  swinging  in  silver-mounted  scabbards. 
y\t  their  heels  rode  a numerous  cavalcade  of  attendants. 


1 HE  STATION  OF  AUSTAN 


UP  THK  ISFAIRAN  VALLHV 


105 

These  dignitaries  escorted  me  to  the  village,  where  a large 
crowd  had  assembled  to  witness  my  entry  and  enjoy  the  rare 
pleasure  of  a real  tamashah  (sjDectacle).  After  dastarkhan 
(refreshments)  had  been  offered  round,  the  caravan  started 
again,  escorted  by  the  trooj)  of  horsemen. 

The  valley  of  the  Isfairan  grew  more  sharply  contoured  as 
we  advanced,  and  narrowed  at  the  end  to  a width  of  only  a 
few  hundred  yards.  At  the  same  time  the  path  ascended, 
following  in  part  the  bed  of  the  stream  ; though  in  places  it 
ran  along  the  face  of  steep,  well  nigh  precipitous  slojjes.  The 
river  has  cut  a deep  channel  through  the  coarse-grained  con- 
glomerates, and  its  waters,  dark  green  in  color,  but  clear  as 
crystal,  danced  merrily  along  among  the  bowlders. 

A few  hours’  ride  brought  us  to  our  second  halting-station, 
Austan.  There  the  volastnoi  of  the  place  had  got  ready  for 
us  a comfortable  yurt  (tent)  of  white  kasln)ia  (thick  Kirghiz 
felt),  decorated  on  the  outside  with  broad  strips  of  colored 
cloth,  and  furnished  inside  with  Kirghiz  carpets  and  — a 
crackling  fire.  Having  rigged  up  a temporary  meteorolog- 
ical observatory,  and  piled  the  baggage  outside  the  tent,  the 
men  tethered  and  fed  their  horses,  and  then  gathered  round 
a fire  in  the  open  air.  Here  Rehim  Bai  got  the  first  oppor- 
tunity to  exhibit  his  skill  as  cook.  By  the  time  I had  com- 
pleted my  observations  daylight  had  gone,  and  I set  about 
arranging  my  bed  for  the  night — not  a very  irksome  task, 
however,  seeing  that  the  bed  consisted  simply  of  a piece  of 
sacking  stretched  upon  two  poles,  the  ends  of  which  rested 
on  a couple  of  yakhtans  (boxes). 

The  next  day  was  dedicated  to  rest.  The  Kirghiz  kishlak 
(winter  village)  of  Austan,  numbering  about  a hundred  uy 
(tents),  lay  about  three-quarters  of  a mile  higher  up  the  valley, 
surrounded  by  clumps  of  stunted  white  poplars.  But  the  dav 
was  not  spent  in  idleness:  I made  a short  excursion  from 
camp,  and  carried  out  several  scientific  observations.  The 
Isfairan  brought  down  a volume  of  2S0  cubic  feet  in  the 
second.  The  temperature  of  the  air  at  seven  o’clock  in  the 
morning  was  31.1°  Fahr.  ( — 0.5°  C.);  maximum  during  the  day, 
51. 1 Fahr.  (10.6°  C.).  The  boiling-point  of  the  water  was  at 


io6 


THROUGH  ASIA 


206.3°  Fahr.  (95.7°  C.) ; consequently,  the  altitude  above  sea- 
level  may  be  taken  as  4510  feet. 

In  the  hurry  of  my  departure  from  Margelan  I had  forgot- 
ten one  thing — namely,  a watch-dog,  to  lie  outside  the  yurt  at 
night.  The  oversight  was  made  good  in  a curious  way.  On 
February  25th,  while  we  were  doing  the  ne.xt  stage  to  Lan- 
gar,  an  expansion  of  the  valley  26’?  miles  farther  on,  a big 
Kirghiz  dog,  yellow  and  long-haired,  came  and  joined  himself 
of  his  own  accord  to  our  troop.  He  followed  us  faithfully 
throughout  the  whole  of  the  journey  to  Kashgar,  and  kept 
grim  kaj'aol  (watch)  outside  the  tent  every  night.  He  was 
christened  Yollchi,  or  “ Him  who  was  picked  up  on  the 
road.” 

Immediately  after  leaving  Austan  the  track  climbed  steejjly 
up  the  left  side  of  the  valley.  The  horses  clambered  up  one 
after  the  other  in  a long  string.  Ere  many  minutes  were 
passed  we  had  ascended  so  high  that  we  could  hear  nothiiig 
of  the  brawling  torrent  below  except  a soft  lisping  murmur. 
The  path  was  very  tiring;  it  wound  in  and  out  of  the  heaps 
of  mountain  detritus,  squeezing  itself  through  the  narrow 
passages  between  them.  Sometimes  it  skirted  the  edge  of  a 
terrace  which  swung  back  round  a side  glen.  Sometimes  it 
threaded  its  way  between  gigantic  fragments  of  rock.  Every 
now  and  again  it  ran  steeply  down  the  side  of  the  valley,  and 
for  a little  distance  followed  the  bed  of  the  stream  ; then  up 
it  would  suddenly  mount  again  as  abruptly  as  it  had  plunged 
down. 

d'he  parallel  ridges  of  the  .Alai'  were  cleft  transversely  by 
the  deep  valley  of  the  Isfairan,  so  that  the  rui)tured  ends 
abutted  upon  it  en  echelon,  like  the  side-wings  of  a stage-set- 
ting.  The  scenery  was  both  wild  and  grand.  Gigantic  talus- 
slojrcs,  or  landslips,  resulting  from  tlie  action  of  wind  and 
weather  upon  the  more  friable  rocks  of  the  mountains  above, 
stretched  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  I he  course  of 
the  stream  was  marked  by  a few  scattered  trees  and  bushes 
growing  close  to  the  margin.  Up  on  the  mountain  - sides 
above  manv  a venerable  and  stunted  arelia  (.Asiatic  juniper) 
hung  its  shaggy  head  over  the  yawning  j)recipices. 


rilK  ISFAIKAN  VALLEY 


UP  THE  ISFAIRAX  VALLEY 


109 


Time  after  time  we  had  to  cross  over  the  stream  on  wood- 
en bridges  which  sagged  and  swayed  at  every  step  we  took. 
One  of  these  was  known  by  the  significant  name  of  Chukkiir- 
kopriuk — that  is,  the  Deep  Bridge.  Seen  from  the  lofty  crest 
along  which  the  path  ran,  it  looked  like  a little  stick  tfung 
across  the  narrow  cleft  far  down  below.  Headlong  down  the 
mountain-side  ijlunged  the  track  ; then  over  the  bridge,  and 
as  steeply  up  again,  zigzag,  on  the  opposite  side.  At  every 
ten  or  a dozen  paces  the  panting  horses  stojDpcd  to  catch 
their  breath.  Aijain  and  again  their  burdens  fell  forward  or 
backward,  according  as  they  descended  or  ascended,  and  had 
to  be  hitched  right  again.  The  voices  of  the  men  urging  on 
the  horses  and  shouting  warnings  to  one  another  echoed 
shrilly  among  the  hollows  of  the  precipices.  In  this  way  we 
made  our  way  slowly  and  cautiously  along  the  narrow,  break- 
neck path. 

Shortly  after  crossing  the  Deep  Bridge  the  road  became 
paved  with  ice -slides  and  bordered  with  snow-clad  slopes, 
which  terminated  a little  lower  down  in  a vertical  wall,  at  the 
foot  of  which  the  clay-slates  cropped  out  in  sharp-edged  slabs 
or  flakes.  The  first  horse  of  the  string,  the  one  which  car- 
ried the  bags  of  straw,  together  with  my  tent-bed,  was  led  by 
one  of  the  Kirghiz  guides.  But,  despite  the  man’s  care,  when 
he  came  to  this  spot  the  animal  slipped.  He  made  frantic 
efforts  to  recover  his  feet.  It  was  in  vain.  He  slid  down  the 
declivity,  turned  two  or  three  summersaults  through  the  air, 
crashed  against  the  almost  perpendicular  rocks  which  jutted 
up  from  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  and  finally  came  to  a dead 
stop  in  the  middle  of  the  river.  The  bags  burst,  and  the 
straw  was  scattered  among  the  rocks.  Shrill  shouts  pierced 
the  air.  The  caravan  came  to  a stand-still.  We  rushed  down 
by  the  nearest  side-paths.  One  of  the  Kirghiz  fished  out  my 
tent-bed  as  it  was  dancing  off  down  the  torrent.  The  others 
encouraged  the  horse  to  try  and  get  up.  But  he  lay  in  the 
water  with  his  head  jammed  against  a large  fragment  of  rock, 
and  was  unable  to  respond  to  their  exhortations.  The  Kir- 
ghiz pulled  off  their  boots,  waded  out  to  him,  and  dragged  him 
towards  dry  land.  It  was,  however,  wasted  labor.  The  poor 


I lO 


THROUGH  ASIA 


brute  had  broken  his  back ; and  after  a while  we  left  him  ly- 
ino;  dead  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  whither  he  had  strimg^led 
back  in  his  dying  agonies.  The  straw  was  swept  together, 
sewn  up  again,  and  packed  on  one  of  the  other  horses, 
which  carried  it  till  we  reached  our  night-quarters  at  Langar. 

As  soon  as  we  got  back  to  the  track  we  went  to  work  witli 
spades  and  axes  and  cleared  away  the  ice,  and  then  strewed 
sand  over  the  place  from  which  we  had  cleared  it. 

The  horses  were  led  across  this  dangerous  spot  one  by 
one,  and  with  every  precaution  for  their  safety.  I need 
scarcely  say  that  I traversed  it  on  foot. 

Before  we  reached  the  end  of  our  day’s  journey  we  were 
suddenly  overtaken  by  the  twilight.  The  shades  of  night 
crept  thicker  and  thicker  together  in  the  deep,  narrow  gorge, 
choking  it  with  gloom.  But  after  a while  the  stars  began  to 
peep  forth  ; and  their  keen  glitter,  piercing  the  obscurities  of 
the  ravine,  gave  us  a faint  light  by  which  to  continue  our 
perilous  journey.  I have  encountered  a fair  share  of  advent- 
ures and  dangers  in  High  Asia ; but  the  three  hours’  trav- 
elling which  still  lay  before  us  till  we  reached  Langar  were, 
I believe,  the  most  anxious  of  any  I had  hitherto  experienced. 
The  first  ice-slide  was  merely  the  forerunner  of  others  to 
come.  They  now  followed  one  another  in  quick  succession, 
each  more  perilous  than  the  last.  Thus  we  walked,  and 
crept,  and  slid  slowly  on,  beside  the  black  abysses  gaping  for 
their  prey.  This  occasioned  innumerable  delays,  for  many 
and  many  a time  we  had  to  stop  to  cut  steps  in  the  ice  and 
strew  them  with  sand.  Each  horse  required  two  men  to  get 
him  over  these  places,  one  to  lead  him  by  the  halter,  while 
another  hung  on  to  his  tail,  ready  to  lash  him  if  he  stumbled 
or  slipped.  Notwithstanding  this,  several  of  them  did  fall;  but 
luckily  they  managed  to  recover  their  feet.  One  fell  and  slid 
several  yards  down  the  snowy  slope,  but  fortunately  stopped 
in  time.  His  pack  was  loosened  and  carried  up  the  path; 
the  animal  was  helped  to  get  back,  and  his  burden  was  once 
more  lashed  tightly  on  his  back.  I myself  crawled  several 
hundreds  of  yards  on  my  hands  and  knees,  while  one  of  the 
Kirghiz  crept  close  at  my  heels  and  held  me  in  the  more 


\IK\V  HKTWKKX  AUSTAX  AXI)  I.AXCAR 


I 


UP  THP:  ISFAiRAN  VALLKY 


113 

perilous  passages.  A fall  in  any  of  those  places  would  have 
meant  instant  death. 

In  a word,  it  was  a desperate  journey — dark,  cold,  awe- 
inspiring. The  only  sounds  that  broke  the  unearthly  silence 
of  the  gorge  were  the  piercing  screams  of  the  men  whenever 
one  of  the  horses  fell,  their  shouts  of  warning  when  they 
drew  near  to  one  of  these  perilous  passages,  and  the  constant 


MAKING  A ROAD  IN  THE  ALAI  MOUNTAINS 

roar  of  the  torrent,  which  churned  its  way  down  through  the 
foam-white  rapids.  It  was  an  Asiatic  river-spirit  dashing  a 
storm  of  music  from  her  quivering  harp ! 

When  we  at  length  arrived  at  Langau,  weary,  frozen,  hun- 
gry, we  had  been  toiling  through  the  snow  for  twelve  hours 
at  one  stretch.  How  welcome  the  two  tents  we  found  ready 
pitched  for  us  there,  with  a brightly  blazing  fire  in  each ! 

8 


CHAPTER  IX 


OVER  THE  TENGHIZ-BAI  PASS 


From  Langar  we  travelled  almost  clue  south  towards  the 
pass  of  Tenghiz-bai.  Hut  before  I go  on  to  relate  how  we 
surmounted  it,  I must  say  a word  or  two  about  the  principal 
passes  which  connect  the  valley  of  Fergana  with  the  valley 
of  the  Alai'.  There  are  five  of  them — namely,  these,  going 
east  to  west ; 

Talldik 11,605  feet  in  altitude. 

J'PPtik 13.605  •• 


This- gives  a mean  altitude  of  13,250  feet  for  the  Ala'i  passes. 
It  is  noticeable  that  their  absolute  elevation  increases  as  the 
chain  advances  westward;  the  difference  in  altitude  between 
the  passes  and  the  valley,  or  the  relative  altitude  of  the 
passes,  likewise  increases  from  east  to  west. 

The  easiest  of  these  passes  is  the  one  mentioned  first — 
namely,  Talldik.  It  has  recently  been  levelled,  and  is  now 
])racticable  for  carriages  and  artillery.  But  it  is  closed  by 
the  snows  the  greater  part  of  the  winter,  d'he  second  and 
third  are  very  difficult,  chiefly  because  of  the  avalanches,  the 
violent  winds,  and  the  furious  hurricanes  of  snow,  d'he 
dei)th  of  snow  on  Tenghiz-bai  varies  very  greatly  from  year 
to  year.  In  normal  seasons  it  does  not  amount  to  any  great 
cjuantity,  and  for  this  reason  it  is  the  pass  that  is  mostly  used 
during  the  winter.  It  is  the  route  followed  by  the  post- 
couriers (jighits)  who  carry  the  mails  between  Margelan  and 
P'ort  Pamir.  Nevertheless  it  is  no  unusual  thing  for  the 


Sarik-mogal  . 
Tenghiz-bai  . 
Kara-kasik  . 


14,110 

12,630 

14,305  " 


OVER  THE  TEXGIIIZ-HAI  PASS 


115 


Tenghiz-bai  pass  to  be  closed  during  tlie  last  two  or  three 
weeks  of  Eebruary.  In  1S93  it  was  only  closed  for  ten  days. 
In  1892  it  was  impassable  for  a period  of  two  whole  months. 
And  in  1891  the  depth  of  the  snow  was  so  great,  though  for 
a shorter  period,  that  junijjers  twelve  or  thirteen  feet  high 
were  comjjletely  buried  from  sight  in  the  snow-drifts. 

Eebruarv  is  the  month  in  which  avalanches  fall  and  snow- 
storms rage  with  the  greatest  frecpiency.  At  that  season  the 
boldest  Kirghiz  hesitates  to  j)ut  foot  inside  the  pass  unless 
the  weather  is  jDerfectly  still  anrl  serene.  .All  the  same, 
hardly  a winter  passes  without  a fatal  mishap  of  some  kind, 
rhe  numerous  skeletons  of  horses,  and  even  of  human 
beings,  which  litter  the  track,  might  serve  as  mile-stones  dur- 
ing the  summer  months. 

The  Kirghiz  of  the  aul  (tent  village)  of  Daraut-kurgan,  in 
the  valley  of  the  .\la'i,  told  me  a pathetic  story  of  a man  who 
came  to  that  jjlace  from  Utch-kurgan  early  in  the  year  1893, 
in  order  to  spend  Ramadan  (the  .Mohammedan  month  of  fast- 
ing) with  some  friends.  On  the  way  home  he  was  overtaken, 
on  March  23d,  in  the  pass  mentioned,  by  a violent  buran 
(snow-hurricane),  and  was  forced  to  stay  there  four  days  and 
nights  squatting  on  the  ground,  with  no  other  protection 
than  his  sheepskin  coat.  His  horse  died.  His  provisions 
gave  out.  When  the  snow-storm  ceased,  he  found  the  way 
blocked  in  both  directions.  Nevertheless  he  pushed  on,  and, 
by  dint  of  creeping,  climbing,  and  wading,  came,  after  two 
days  and  two  nights  of  terrible  labor,  to  the  district  of  Kara- 
kiya,  where  he  fell  in  with  some  of  his  own  countrymen,  who 
took  charge  of  him,  and  fed  him  and  nursed  him.  As  soon 
as  he  had  recovered  a little  he  continued  his  journey  to 
Utch-kurgan.  But  he  died  the  very  first  night  after  getting 
home,  overcome  by  the  hardships  and  privations  he  had  un- 
dergone. 

I was  also  told  that  a caravan  of  forty  men  was  over- 
whelmed that  same  winter  in  the  Terek-davan  pass  by  an 
avalanche,  and  killed  to  the  last  man. 

On  the  night  of  February  26th  I sent  eight  Kirghiz  on 
in  advance  into  the  pass,  with  spades,  picka.xes,  and  hatchets. 


THROUGH  ASIA 


1 16 

to  hew  a road  for  the  horses.  The  caravan  followed  up  after 
them  early  the  next  morning.  The  first  difficult  place  we 
came  to  was  at  Kara-kiya.  There  we  found  the  Kirghiz 
hard  at  work  hewing  steps — actual  steps — in  the  ice ; for  the 
last  fall  of  snow,  which  lay  on  the  surface,  had  melted  during 
the  day,  and  then  frozen  during  the  following  night. 

The  mountain  horses  or  ponies  of  the  Kirghiz  are  truly 
wonderful  little  animals.  Their  ordinary  load  is  usually  about 
thirteen  stone  (i8o  pounds).  With  this  load  on  their  backs 
they  are  able  to  slide  great  distances  down  the  mountain 
slopes.  They  climb  like  cats  up  the  steep  declivities;  and 
although  the  narrow,  slippery  mountain-paths  are  generally 
coated  with  ice,  and  run  along  the  edge  of  precipices,  they 
balance  themselves  on  them  with  almost  inconceivable  sure- 
ness of  foot.  The  name  Kara-kiya,  meaning  the  Black 
Gorge,  is  a very  appropriate  name  for  the  place.  It  is  a nar- 
row tunnel  or  pass,  shut  in  by  perpendicular  walls  of  rock, 
and  shrouded  in  the  deepest  shadows.  Into  those  cavernous 
depths  no  ray  of  sunshine  ever  penetrates.  At  this  spot  the 
Isfa’iran  was  spanned  by  two  bridges.  Underneath  the  up- 
per one  the  torrent  plunged  with  the  force  and  noise  of  a 
thundering  cascade.  In  this  region  the  hand  of  Nature  has 
worked  with  sublime  effect.  Landscapes  alternately  wild, 
awe-inspiring,  and  full  of  romantic  charm  followed  one 
another  in  cpiick  succession.  The  eye  commanded  a truly 
wonderful  perspective  both  up  and  down  the  glen. 

Above  the  bridge  of  Haidar-beg  the  valley  bore  the  name 
of  Chettindeh,  and  the  stream  was  spanned  by  four  small 
wooden  bridges.  The  last  of  these  was  a miserable  con- 
trivance.  Its  supi^orts  were  so  rotten  that  my  men  were  in 
a state  of  the  greatest  anxiety  as  they  carefully  led  the  horses 
across  it  one  by  one.  A short  distance  farther  on  the  glen 
was  completely  choked  by  a newly  fallen  kitts/ika  (avalanche 
or  snow  slide),  which  blocked  both  stream  and  path.  'I'lie 
former  came  boiling  from  underneath  the  ice  like  a river 
emerging  from  an  underground  tunnel ; while  a new  path,  or 
rather  staircase,  had  to  be  hewn  across  the  sloping  talus  of 
ice-blocks.  As  luck  would  have  it,  we  chanced  at  this  very 


PORTION  OF  THE  ALAI  MOUNTAINS,  AS  SEEN  FROM  THE  PASS  OF  TENGHIZ-RAI 


0\'HR  THE  TEN(iHlZ-BAI  PASS 


119 


sjx)t  to  meet  a dozen  or  so  Kirghiz  from  Kara-teghin,  trav- 
elling on  foot  to  Kokand  and  Margelan  in  search  of  work. 
They  stopped  and  helped  us  to  repair  the  road.  Hut  even 
then,  after  all  our  efforts,  the  path  was  so  steep  that  each 
horse  had  to  be  actually  jnished  up  by  half  a dozen  men. 

The  glen  narrowed  rapidly  towards  its  upper  end,  rising 
with  e.xtraordinary  steepness  and  becoming  indistinguishable 
from  the  mountain  slopes.  At  the  same  time  the  relative 
altitudes  decreased  in  proportion  as  the  absolute  altitudes  in- 
creased. The  last  portion  of  the  way  was  tough  work  ; ava- 
lanche succeeded  avalanche  at  short  intervals.  Almost  ev- 
erv  hor.se  in  the  string  fell  once,  some  of  them  twice;  and  as 
thev  were  unable  to  get  up  again  in  the  snow  with  the  loads 
on  their  backs,  the  bajrtrage  had  to  be  taken  off  them  and 
then  lashed  on  afresh.  In  this  way  we  were  delayed  time 
after  time.  The  last  ice-slide  we  encountered  was  so  difficult 
to  cross  that  the  horse*;  could  not  by  any  possibility  get  over 
it  loaded  ; accordingly  the  Kirghiz  unloaded  them  and  carried 
the  baggage  across  on  their  own  backs.  Indeed,  they  carried 
it  all  the  way  to  Rabat  (Rest-hou.se)  — a little  hut  built  of 
stones  and  timber  overlooking  the  glen  below.  There  also  a 
uy  (tent)  had  been  pitched.  I had  walked  the  greater  part 
of  the  day,  and  was  thoroughly  tired.  The  altitude  was 
9350  feet : and  during  the  night  I began  to  feel  the  symp- 
toms of  mountain-sickness — a splitting  headache  and  an  ac- 
celeration of  the  heart’s  action.  These  symptoms,  which  were 
caused  by  the  sudden  change  from  a relatively  low  to  a rela- 
tively high  altitude,  continued  all  the  following  day  ; but  passed 
off  after  about  forty-eight  hours,  leaving  no  ill  effects  behind 
them. 

On  the  following  morning  the  Kirghiz  road-makers  and 
Jan  Ali  Emin,  aksakal  (chieftain)  of  the  Kara-teppes,  who 
had  been  in  charge  of  the  work,  returned  to  Rabat.  At  the 
same  time  I and  my  men,  fully  realizing  the  risks  of  the  un- 
dertaking, started  on  our  journey  up  the  pass,  which  was 
now  buried  deep  in  snow.  The  difficulties  of  the  road  were 
almost  inconceivable,  and  our  labors  trying  in  the  extreme. 
But  by  dint  of  persevering  we  managed  to  surmount  all  ob- 


I 20 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Stacies,  and  came  to  a trough-shaped  depression  on  the  sum- 
mit of  tlie  range,  where  the  snow  was  fully  six  feet  deep.  A 
deep  and  narrow  pathway  had  been  trampled  through  the 
snow-drifts.  But  it  was  like  a shaking  bridge  laid  across  a 

O O 

bog.  One  step  off  the  path,  and  the  horses  plunged  up  to 
the  girth  in  the  snow  ; and  it  took  all  our  combined  efforts 
to  dig  them  out  again  and  get  them  back  upon  the  “ bridge.” 
All  this  occasioned  serious  loss  of  time. 

We  now  became  aware  of  a group  of  sombre  - looking 
peaks,  split  and  weathered  by  wind  and  frost,  towering  above 
the  eternal  snows  away  in  the  southwest.  It  was  a detached 
spur  of  the  Kara-kir,  pointing  the  way  like  a sea-beacon  up 
to  the  dreaded  pass  of  Tenghiz-bai.  The  track  mounted  up 
to  the  last  summit  by  an  endless  series  of  zigzags,  putting 
the  horses’  strength  and  climbing  powers  to  the  severest 
jDi'oof.  But  at  length  we  reached  the  top  of  the  pass  safe 
and  sound,  and  with  all  our  baggage  intact.  There  we 
rested  an  hour  for  tea,  made  meteorological  and  other  ob- 
servations, took  photographs,  and  admired  the  entrancing 
scenery. 

The  spot  at  which  we  rested  was  shut  in  on  every  side  by 
snowy  crests,  with  bare,  black  pinnacles  protruding  here  and 
there  through  their  mantles  of  snow.  Looking  northward, 
we  had  the  valley  of  the  Isfa'iran  below  us.  We  turned 
towards  the  southwest,  and  a magnificent  panorama  fasci- 
nated the  eye.  In  the  far-off  distance  were  the  sharply  ac- 
centuated crests  of  the  Alai'  Mountains,  and  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  valle}^  the  system  of  the  Trans-Alai,  its  summits 
meltino;  into  the  clouds,  its  flanks  "listenino-  with  snow-fields 
of  a dazzling  whiteness. 

'I'he  mountain  saddle  upon  which  we  stood  formed  the 
water-shed  between  the  basins  of  the  Syr-daria  and  the  Amu- 
daria.  After  recovering  our  breath  in  the  clear,  rarefied 
mountain  air,  we  started  to  make  our  way  at  a leisurely  pace 
down  into  the  region  where  the  head-streams  of  the  latter 
river  have  their  origin.  I he  descent  on  this  side  was  every 
bit  as  steep  as  the  ascent  had  been  up  the  northern  face. 
The  path  was  smothered  under  innumerable  landslips  and 


THE  ALAI  AND  TRAXS-ALAI  MOUNTAINS,  SEEN  FROM  THE  PASS  OF  TI*:NGI I I/-HAI 


OVHR  THE  TENC;11IZ-BAI  PASS 


avalanches.  Some  of  them  had  carried  down  with  them  in 
their  fall  vast  quantities  of  earth  and  debris  ; so  that  we  did 
not  perceive  them  until  the  horses  suddenly  dropped  up  to 
the  <;irth  in  the  soft  and  treacherous  ejround.  I measured 
one  of  the  largest  of  these  a\alanches,  which  had  fallen  the 
day  before.  It  was  a quarter  of  a mile  across,  and  had  a 
depth  of  nearly  seventy  feet,  d'he  Kirghiz  were  not  slow  to 
congratulate  one  another  upon  having  so  fortunately  es- 
caped its  clutches.  The  gigantic  ice- slides  rush  down  the 
mountain  - side  with  such  overwhelming  force  and  momen- 
tum that,  under  the  enormous  i)ressure,  their  lower  strata  or 
under-surface  become  converted  into  ice.  and  anvthine:  livincf 
which  should  have  the  misfortune  to  be  buried  under  it 
would  be  literally  frozen  fast  in  the  middle  of  a block  of  ice 
as  hard  and  as  vitreous  as  glass.  Once  clasped  in  that  icy 
embrace,  a man  would  be  hopelessly  doomed.  But  in  all 
probability  the  unhappy  wretch  who  was  thus  swept  away 
would  be  stunned  by  the  fall,  and  would  freeze  to  death  be- 
fore his  consciousness  returned. 

Thoroughly  exhausted  by  the  exertions  of  the  day,  we 
halted  in  a little  side  glen  called  Shiman.  Here  the  snow 
was  several  feet  deep,  and  the  Kirghiz  were  obliged  to  clear 
a space  before  they  could  get  the  tent  erected.  We  passed 
the  night  hemmed  in  by  a high  breastwork  of  snow. 

The  next  day  we  continued  our  march  down  the  glen  of 
the  Daraut-kurgan.  Every  ten  minutes  or  so  we  forded  the 
stream,  which  raced  along  under  arches  and  bridges  of  snow. 
Each  time  we  did  so,  the  horses  were  obliged  to  leap  down 
the  perpendicular  bank  of  ice  into  the  water,  and  then  leap 
up  again  on  the  opposite  side.  Every  time  they  did  this,  I 
was  in  a fever  of  anxiety  lest  any  mishap  should  befall  the  ani- 
mals which  carried  the  ammunition  and  the  photographic 
apparatus.  However,  everything  passed  off  all  right.  The 
only  incident  was  one  of  the  commissariat  horses  plunging 
down  a steep  snow-slide,  and  rolling  into  the  torrent.  But 
we  followed  him  down,  unloaded  him,  hauled  up  the  yakhtans 
with  a rope,  reloaded  the  animal,  and  then  ploughed  slowly  on 
through  the  snow-drifts  till  another  horse  stumbled  and  fell. 


124 


THROUGH  ASIA 


At  mid-day  it  began  to  snow.  A thick  mist  came  on, 
hiding  everything  from  view,  and  preventing  us  from  seeing 
where  we  were  going  to.  One  of  the  Kirghiz  went  on  first 
and  sounded  the  depth  of  the  snow  with  a long  staff,  as 
sailors  do  when  navigating  unfamiliar  waters.  But  there 
was  this  difference : whereas  sailors  aim  to  avoid  the  shal- 
lows, we  sought  for  them,  and  for  the  firm  ground  under- 


OUR  C.VMP  AT  OARAUT-KURGAN 


neath  them.  Several  times  our  guide  dropped  out  of  sight 
altogether  in  the  snow,  and  had  to  crawl  out,  and  try  again 
in  another  place. 

The  glen  we  were  following  emerged  into  the  valley  of 
the  Alai  near  the  spot  where  Khodiar,  the  last  independent 
Khan  of  Kokand,  had  built  the  fort  of  Daraut-kurgan,  a 
building  with  low  clay  walls,  and  a tower  at  one  corner. 
Another  hour’s  travelling  brought  us  to  the  Kirghiz  aul 
(tent-village)  of  Daraut-kurgan,  consisting  of  about  a score 
of  tents  (households)  under  the  authority  of  the  hosj)itable 
chieftain,  Tash  Mohammed  Kmin. 

The  oriiiin  and  meaning  of  the  name  Daraut-kuroan  are 
differently  explained  by  different  Kirghiz.  Some  maintain 
that  it  is  comi^osed  of  three  words,  ?///,  and  kurgan,\\\(:. 


OVER  THE  TENGHIZ-HAI  PASS 


125 


first  common  to  both  Persian  and  Kirghiz,  and  meaning 
“valley,”  the  other  two,  both  Kirghiz  words,  meaning  “grass” 
and  “stronghold”  or  “fort”  respectively.  Others  declare 
that  the  name  is  a corruption  of  the  Persian  dar-ra7i,  mean- 
ing “ immediate  ” or  “ make  haste  on  the  road  ”;  and  go  on  to 
explain  that  Daraut-kurgan  is  intended  to  warn  the  traveller 
to  make  haste  and  get  through  the  dreaded  pass  as  quickly 
as  he  can. 

To  add  to  our  difficulties,  it  began  to  blow  a gale  from 
the  west.  The  snow  still  continued  to  fall,  and  the  mist 
did  not  lift.  The  Kirghiz  said  that  a violent  snow-storm 
was  raging  up  in  the  Tenghiz-bai  pass;  we  might  thank  our 
stars  we  had  got  through  it  in  time.  And  indeed  it  was  a 
stroke  of  fortune  to  escape  in  the  way  we  did.  A day  earlier 
and  we  might  have  been  crushed  under  the  avalanche;  a 
day  later  and  we  might  have  been  annihilated  by  the  buran 
(snow-hurricanej. 


CHAPTER  X 


UP  THE  ALAI  VALLEY 

Before  I proceed  with  my  itinerary  I should  like  to  say  a 
few  words  about  the  Ala'i  valley,  the  huge  troughlike  depres- 
sion which  separates  the  Alai  chain  from  the  Pamir  plateau. 
Bounded  on  the  north  by  the  Alai'  Mountains,  and  on  the 
south  by  the  Trans-Alai,  it  is  terminated  at  its  eastern  ex- 
tremity by  the  massive  mountain  - knot  of  Mus  - tagh  - tau. 
Thence  it  stretches  seventy-five  miles  westward,  and  is  con- 
tinued in  the  valley  of  Kara-teghin.  Its  breadth  varies  from 
three  to  twelve  miles;  the  altitude  sinks  from  10,500  feet  in 
the  east  to  8200  feet  at  Daraut-kurgan  in  the  west.  It  is 
drained  by  the  Kizil-su,  which  traverses  it  throughout  its  en- 
tire length,  gathering  up  on  the  way  the  rainfall  of  the  sur- 
rounding mountains.  After  quitting  the  Ala'i  valley,  the 
river  enters  the  valley  of  Kara-teghin,  winds  through  it  un- 
der the  name  of  the  Surkhab,  and  finally  joins  the  Amu- 
daria,  bearing  a third  name,  the  Wakhsh,  at  the  point  of  con- 
fluence. The  volume  of  the  Kizil-su  amounted  to  780  cubic 
feet  in  the  second  at  Daraut-kurgan.  Add  to  this  the  vol- 
ume of  175  cubic  feet  in  the  second  contributed  by  its  afflu- 
ent, the  Kara-su,  and  we  get  a total  volume  of  eighty-two 
and  a half  million  cubic  feet  in  the  twenty-four  hours.  The 
volume  is  greatest  in  the  middle  of  summer,  when  the  snows 
melt  at  the  fastest  rate.  Indeed,  for  about  six  weeks  at  mid- 
summer the  flood  is  so  powerful  that  it  is  impossible  to  ford 
the  river  at  Daraut-kurgan.  During  that  time  all  communi- 
cation between  the  aids  on  the  opposite  banks  is  completely 
interrupted. 

'I'he  volume  of  the  stream  is  very  much  greater  during  the 
night  than  during  the  daytime.  This  is  owing  to  the  fact 


MY  CARAVAN  IN  TIIK  ALAI  VAl.LLY 


I P tup:  ALAI  vallp:v 


1 29 

that  the  water  from  the  snows,  winch  are  melted  by  the  sun 
during  the  day,  do  not  get  down  to  the  valley  before  dark- 
ness sets  in.  The  flood  begins  to  rise  at  about  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  At  si.\  in  the  morning  it  begins  to  fall  again. 
It  reaches  its  lowest  level  at  eight,  and  maintains  the  same 
level  all  day  long.  In  March,  when  I saw  it,  the  water  was 
as  bright  and  as  clear  as  crystal.  Hut  during  the  summer  it 
is  tinged  a brick-red  color  by  the  sands  and  clays  it  passes 
through  in  its  upper  course.  It  is  from  this  circumstance  it 
gets  its  name  of  Kizil-su,  which  means  the  Red  River.  A 
similar  circumstance  has  given  the  same  name  to  its  neigh- 
bor over  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains — namely,  the 
stream  which  flows  from  the  Terek-davan  pass  eastward  to 
Kashgarand  Lop-nor. 

In  the  northern,  middle,  and  eastern  districts  of  the  Pamirs 
— the  districts  through  which  my  route  ran — the  downfall  of 
snow  is  verv  une\’enly  distributed.  Phree  sharply  separated 
zones,  dependent  upon  the  configuration  of  the  surface,  may 
be  distinguished,  (i.)  In  the  north,  the  valley  of  the  Alai, 
which  becomes  filled  every  winter  with  enormous  masses  of 
snow.  (2.)  In  the  east,  the  region  of  Sarik  - kol,  which  re- 
ceives a verv  much  less  quantity  of  snow.  (3.)  Lying  be- 
tween these  two,  the  tract  around  the  lakes  Kara -kill  and 
Rang-kul,  neither  of  which  has  any  outflow ; there  the  snow- 
fall is  almost  insitjnificant.  It  mav  be  assumed  that,  as  a 
general  rule,  the  moisture-laden  winds,  which  blow  towards 
the  lofty  plateau  of  the  Pamirs,  discharge  the  greater  portion 
of  their  precipitation  upon  the  border  ranges  before  they 
reach  the  central  parts  of  the  region.  In  these  tracts  it  is 
only  in  sheltered  spots,  where  the  force  of  the  wind  is  broken — 
for  example,  close  to  and  around  the  passes — that  any  great 
quantity  of  snow  falls.  In  all  other  places  the  thin,  dry  snow 
is  quickly  swept  away  by  the  wind. 

One  immediate  consequence  of  the  unequal  geographical 
distribution  of  the  snowfall  is  the  unequal  distribution,  as 
well  as  the  unequal  size,  of  the  rivers  and  glaciers.  Both 
occur  only  in  those  regions  where  there  is  a plentiful  snow- 
fall. In  the  central  parts  of  the  plateau  they  are  few  and  of 
9 


130 


THROUGH  ASIA 


inconsiderable  dimensions.  Taking  the  results  of  mv  obser- 
v^ations  and  measurements  as  a basis,  I calculate  that  on  an 
av^erage  one  cubic  yard  of  snow  out  of  the  total  quantity  on 
each  square  yard  of  land-surface  goes  to  feed  the  rivers  in  the 
form  of  water.  The  snow  as  it  lies  is  of  e.xtraordinary  density, 
and  only  about  one-fourth  of  its  volume  melts  and  becomes 
converted  into  water.  If  we  estimate  that  the  ao-o;reQ:ate 
snowfall  of  the  Alai'  valley  and  the  mountain  - slopes  which 
surround  it  covers  2,870,000,000  square  yards,  we  may  reck- 
on the  aggregate  volume  of  water  which  they  yield  at  19,500,- 
000,000  cubic  feet,  or  a solid  cube  of  water  measuring  2700 
feet  on  each  of  its  sides.  This  estimate  can  scarcely  be  con- 
sidered excessive,  when  it  is  borne  in  mind  that  the  volume 
of  the  river  during  the  period  of  high  flood,  in  the  middle 
of  the  summer,  is  out  of  all  comparison  greater  than  dur- 
ing the  colder  seasons  of  the  year.  If  we  assume  a volume 
of  880  cubic  feet  in  the  second  as  the  mean  for  the  whole  of 
the  year,  the  figures  work  out  at  an  annual  aggregate  volume 
of  close  upon  27,800,000,000  cubic  feet.  A calculation  made 
upon  such  insufficient  data  can  obviously  be  nothing  more 
than  an  approximation.  It  is  self-evident  that  the  excess 
precipitation  must  be  set  down  to  the  summer  rains. 

During  the  winter  violent  westerly  winds  blow  up  the  valley 
of  the  Ala'i  with  great  constancy  and  regularity.  Easterly 
winds  also  occur,  but  are  very  rare,  ddie  high  mountain- 
chains  (m  the  north  and  south  of  the  valley  shelter  it  against 
northerly  and  southerly  winds,  although  it  does  occasionally 
blow  from  the  southeast.  During  the  summer  the  air  is 
stiller,  and  the  wind  blows  seldom,  and  then  with  but  little 
force.  The  west  wind  is  called  Kara-teghin  /c/iama/,  \\\^ 
east  wind  I rkestam and  the  southeast  wind  Murghab 
khamal,  after  the  various  districts  from  which  they  blow. 

In  the  valley  of  h'ergana  the  s]Dring  rains  come  in  the 
middle  of  March,  in  the  Ala’i  valley,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  mountains,  the  same  month  is  the  season  of  the  sarik- 
kar  or  yellow  snow,  the  name  given  to  the  last  of  tlie  winter 
snows.  Why  it  is  so  called  the  Kirghiz  were  never  able  to 
explain  satisfactorily.  Hut  it  is  a fact  that  the  name  is  in 


UP  I'Hl-:  ALAI  VALLEY 


common  use  all  over  the  I’amirs.  The  most  probable  ex- 
planation is  perhaps  this:  By  that  time,  in  certain  cpiarters, 
the  snow  has  already  melted,  exposing  the  surface  of  the 
ground.  The  dust  which  rises  from  those  places  is  probably 
caught  up  by  the  wind  and  blown  upon  the  freshly  fallen 
snow,  staining  it  a dirty  yellow  color. 

I need  scarcely  add  that  the  beginning  of  the  winter 
snows,  and  their  disappearance  in  sj^ring,  vary  in  the  various 


AMID  THE  SNOWS  OF  THE  AI.AI  VALEEV 

districts.  In  the  higher  regions  it  snows  all  the  year  round. 
In  the  Alai  valley  the  first  snow  falls  in  the  end  of  Oc- 
tober, and  the  last  traces  disappear  about  the  middle  of 
April. 

But  to  return  to  our  journey.  During  the  night  between 
February  28th  and  March  ist  the  wind  howled  and  whistled 
through  the  tent  hour  after  hour,  and  at  length  rent  several 
narrow  slits  between  the  separate  pieces  of  felting.  In  the 
morning,  when  I woke  up,  the  floor  of  the  tent  was  braided 
with  ribbons  of  drifted  snow  ; one  of  them  ran  diagonallv 
across  the  pillow  on  which  my  head  rested.  But  what  cared 
I about  wind  and  snow  ? I slept  like  a bear  in  his  winter 
lair.  The  storm  continued  to  rage  all  the  next  dav.  The 
wind,  which  blew  from  the  west,  whirled  thick  clouds  of 
snow  as  fine  as  powder  past  the  yurt  (tent)  from  morning 
till  night.  In  fact,  every  minute  the  tent  itself  threatened  to 


132 


THROUGH  ASIA 


go,  although  we  lashed  it  down  with  extra  ropes,  and  sup- 
ported it  with  additional  stakes. 

On  March  2d  we  travelled  as  far  as  the  winter  village 

O 

of  Gundi.  But  before  starting^  in  the  mcrninw  we  took  the 
precaution  to  send  men  on  in  advance  to  clear  the  path  and 
trample  a passage  through  the  snow-drifts.  And  fortunate 
we  did  so,  for  the  old  track  was  completely  obliterated  by  the 
storm.  We  kept  as  close  to  the  southern  foot-slopes  of  the 
Alai’  Mountains  as  we  possibly  could,  because  in  many 
places  on  that  side  the  snow  had  been  swept  clean  away. 

At  Gundi  we  met  with  a misfortune.  We  had  just  got 
the  tent  pitched  and  arranged,  and  had  carried  in  the  yakh- 
tans,  and  the  more  perishable  portions  of  the  baggage,  when 


TUK  AUI.  OF  GUNDI 

Rehim  Bai  managed  to  give  the  quicksilver  barometer  a 
knock,  which  smashed  the  delicate  glass  tube  and  set  the 
glistening  beads  of  quicksilver  rolling  along  the  ground. 
My  costly  and  sensitive  instrument,  which  I watched  over  as 
tenderly  as  a mother  watches  over  her  infant,  alas!  it  was 
now  useless,  and  might  just  as  well  be  flung  into  a snow- 
drift. I could  no  longer  record  its  readings  three  times  a 
day,  as  I had  conscientiously  done  hitherto.  Rehim  Bai  was 


VV  THH  ALAI  \'ALL1-:V 


dismayed  at  what  lie  had  done;  but,  as  he  really  was  not  to 
blame  for  what  had  hai^pened,  1 let  him  off  with  a mild  wig- 
ging. What  was  the  use  of  heaj)ing  reproaches  upon  him.^ 
riiat  would  not  mend  the  barometer.  Ifesides,  I still  had 
three  other  aneroid  barometers  and  hy|)someters. 

With  the  idea  of  affording  me  some  consolation  for  my 
loss,  the  men  arranged  a concert  for  the  e\’ening.  One  of 
the  Kirghiz  came  into  my  tent,  and  scpiatting  down  began  to 
])lay  the  I’aunntss,  a three-stringed  instrument  ])layed  with  the 
fingers.  The  music  was  monotonous  and  of  a melancholy 
cadence;  but  it  harmonized  well  with  the  surroundings  and 
the  moods  they  inspired.  In  a word,  it  was  ty|)ically  Asiatic. 
1 sat  and  listened  to  it  with  pleasure,  giving  my  imagination 
captive  to  the  music,  the  soft  moaning  of  the  night  wind,  the 
gentle  crackle  of  the  fire,  flow  many  and  many  a night  did 
I not  spend  thus  during  the  long  years  that  followed,  listen- 
ing to  the  dreamy  sounds  of  that  primitive  Kirghiz  instru- 
ment! How  many  a dark,  solitary  winter  afternoon  did  I 
not  while  away  in  this  foolish  fashion  ! In  course  of  time  I 
grew  accustomed  to  the  kaumuss,  and  derived  as  much 
pleasure  from  it  as  the  Kirghiz  did  themselves.  In  fact,  I 
grew  fond  of  it.  Its  soothing  music  carried  my  mind  away 
into  the  fairy  realms  of  day-dreams;  my  thoughts  fiew  far 
away  to  my  home  amid  the  dark  pine  woods  of  Sweden. 
And  how  sweet  and  pleasant  a thing  it  is  to  dream  yourself 
back  among  those  who  are  near  and  dear  to  you  ! Many  a 
night  I was  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  measured  tones  of  the 
kaumuss,  played  as  an  accompaniment  to  some  melancholy 
Asiatic  song. 

March  3d.  The  storm  had  subsided,  though  the  sky  was 
still  enveloped  in  clouds.  The  peaks  of  the  Trans -Ala'i 
range  shimmered  with  the  loveliest  tints  of  gray,  and  white, 
and  pale  blue.  Two  hours  of  travel  brought  us  to  the  little 
aul  (tent-village)  of  Kizil-unkur,  and  another  two  hours  to  the 
pass  of  Ghaz,  a low  saddle  among  the  southern  spurs  of  the 
Alai'  Mountains.  All  the  way,  even  as  far  as  Kashka-su,  the 
river  Kizil  - su  flowed  close  to  the  foot  of  the  Alai,  as  far 
from  the  Trans- Alai  as  it  could  get.  Our  path  lay  close 


134 


THROUGH  ASIA 


alongside  the  right  bank  of  the  stream,  which  boiled  along 
at  torrential  speed  in  a sort  of  narrow  canon,  now  forcing  its 
way  between  mounds  of  red  sand,  now  cutting  a deep  trench 
through  the  conglomerate  strata. 

Then  we  gradually  worked  away  from  the  Kizil-su.  The 
farther  we  advanced  towards  the  east  the  deeper  lay  the 
snow.  The  track  was  entirely  blotted  out  by  the  latest 
storm,  and  the  snow-drifts  were  so  thick  that  all  day  long 


THE  KTZTL-SU 


four  camels  went  on  in  front  to  trample  down  a path,  or 
rather  a furrow,  through  them,  along  which  the  horses  toiled 
at  a painfully  slow  and  heavy  ]3ace.  The  wind  continued  to 
sweep  down  on  us  in  furious  gusts,  frequently  smothering 
the  whole  caravan  in  dense  clouds  of  driving  snow. 

At  length  we  came  to  the  little  brook  of  Kashka-su,  on 
the  other  side  of  which  was  the  aul  of  the  same  name.  To 
get  to  it  we  had  to  ride  over  the  torrent  on  a bridge  of  ice 
and  snow.  There  we  found  awaiting  us  a most  comfortable 
yurt  (tent).  Not  only  were  Kirghiz  carpets  spread  on  the 
ground,  they  were  also  hung  round  the  walls;  while  the  fire 
which  blazed  in  the  middle  of  the  tent  scattered  showers 
of  sparks  in  every  direction,  and  crackled  and  sliot  out  chijjs 


UP  rilK  ALAI  VALLHV 


135 


of  burning  wood  to  such  a degree  that  a man  was  told  off 
to  watch  lest  it  should  hum  holes  in  the  carpets. 

On  March  4th  it  snowed  all  day  long.  'I'he  landscape 
was  shrouded  in  a thick  mist,  .so  that  not  a single  feature 
could  he  seen.  Skv  and  earth  were  one  indistinguishable 
veil  of  white  haze.  'I'he  only  relief  to  the  eye  was  the  long 
dark  line  of  the  caravan,  shading  off  to  a dull  giay  towards 
the  head  of  the  column  and  gradually  fading  away  in  the 
distance.  I'wo  camels  led  the  way,  their  riders  being  in- 
structed to  find  out  where  was  the  firmest  ground.  Ac- 


CAMELS  TRAMPI.TXr,  A I’.VFU  rUROiant  THE  SNOW 

cordingl)'  they  cruised  up  and  down  eveiy  rise  and  swelling 
of  the  path.  Hut  the  snow  was  so  deep  that  several  times 
they  dropped  into  it  till  scarce  a vestige  of  them  could  be 
seen.  Then,  having  scrambled  out,  they  tried  another  place. 
I'he  horses  struggled  on  as  best  they  could  in  the  track  of 
the  camels,  their  packs  and  stirrups  jolting  and  trailing 
against  the  hanks  of  snow  on  each  side  of  them. 

At  length  we  caught  sight  of  a yurt  on  a hill-side — a black 
spot  amid  the  universal  whiteness.  .A  short  distance  farther 
on  we  saw  men  engaged  in  putting  up  another  tent.  They 
were  only  about  two  hundred  yards  distant;  but  between  us 
and  them  there  was  a ravine  into  which  the  snow  had  drifted 
to  the  depth  of  eight  or  ten  feet,  and  it  took  us  more  than  an 
hour  to  get  all  the  baggage -animals  safely  over.  The  first 
which  ventured  to  try  to  cross  dropped  through  the  treacher- 
ous surface,  and  was  near  being  smothered  in  the  deep  snow. 


THROUGH  ASIA 


136 

It  was  as  much  as  ever  the  men  could  do  to  free  the  liorse 
from  his  packs  and  haul  him  back  again  on  to  firm  ground. 
Then  they  set  to  work  to  dig  out  a path  ; but  the  snow  was 
so  deep  that  they  were  unable  to  get  through  it.  At  length 
the  Kirghiz  hit  upon  an  ingenious  device  for  overcoming 
the  difficulty.  They  took  the  felt  coverings  of  the  tent 
and  spread  them  over  the  snow.  But  there  were  not  suffi- 
cient pieces  to  stretch  right  across,  so,  after  a horse  had  ad- 
vanced as  far  as  he  could  get,  the  felts  were  lifted  from  be- 
hind him  and  laid  down  again  in  front  of  him.  In  this  way, 
but  at  the  cost  of  extreme  labor  and  great  waste  of  time,  we 
managed  to  get  all  the  animals  safely  across. 

That  district  was  called  Jipptik.  But  the  aul  (tent-village) 
of  that  name  was  two  miles  farther  on,  and  the  tents  had  been 
shifted  solely  for  our  accommodation.  Notwithstanding  that, 
it  was  anything  but  a comfortable  camp.  'Fhe  fuel  was  in- 
sufficient in  quantity,  and,  worse  than  that,  damp,  so  that  the 
tent  was  filled  with  eddies  of  pungent  smoke.  The  tent  itself 
was  vei'3'  speedily  surrounded  by  high  ramparts  of  snow. 

March  5th.  The  night  was  bitterly  cold.  The  ther- 
moipeter  registered  a minimum  of  —4.9°  Fahr.  ( — 20.5°  C.) ; 
close  at  the  head  of  my  tent  it  was  14°  Fahr.  (—10°  C.) 
at  eight  in  the  morning.  Everything  inside  the  tent  was 
frozen — canned  provisions,  milk  extract,  ink.  Outside  the 
tent  the  poor  horses,  which  had  passed  the  night  in  the  open 
air,  hung  their  heads  dolefully,  and  tried  to  scrape  away  the 
snow,  which  crackled  in  the  frosty  air  every  time  it  was 
touched.  The  day,  however,  was  fair,  and  about  one  hour 
before  noon  the  sun  peeped  through.  Then  the  majestic  out- 
lines of  the  Alpine  Trans-Alai  began  to  glimmer  through  the 
fast  vanishing  mist,  the  topmost  crests  being  still  wreathed 
in  gauzy  veils  of  cloud.  Every  now  and  again  we  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Kaufmann  Peak  (23,000  feet  high),  a pyramidal 
summit  which  glittered  like  silver  in  the  sunshine,  and  ap- 
jjeared  to  be  ()vertopj)ed  by  scarce  any  of  its  neighbors. 

W’e  waited  some  time  for  a band  of  Kirghiz,  who,  it  had 
been  arranged,  should  come  to  meet  us  from  .Vrcha-bulak 
and  clear  a track  for  us  through  the  snow.  But  after  wait- 


UP  TllH  ALAI  VALI.KY 


137 


ing  some  time  and  seeing  nothing  of  them,  our  friend  Lmin, 
chief  of  the  Kara-teppes,  rode  on  in  advance  to  see  what 
Iiad  become  of  them,  as  well  as  to  reconnoitre  the  ground. 
I confess  it  was  not  an  encouiaging  sight  to  see  his  horse 
floundering  ihrough  the  snow-drifts,  his  Hanks  decorated 
with  friimes  of  rime,  while  the  breath  pushed  from  his  nos- 
trils  like  light  puffs  of  steam.  For  an  hour  and  a half  we 


OUR  HORSES  EN'DEAVORIXO  TO  EIXD  CRASS  IX  THE  SXOW 

watched  him  creeping  like  a black  speck  across  the  endless 
sea  of  white  snows.  Most  of  'the  time  nothing  was  visible 
except  the  rider  and  the  horse’s  head. 

After  an  absence  of  a couple  of  hours  Jan  Ali  Kmin  re- 
turned, and  reported  that  it  was  impossible  to  advance 
farther;  the  snow  was  many  feet  deep,  and  his  horse  had 
been  down  several  times.  W’e  held  a consultation,  as  the 
outcome  of  which  Emin  and  Rehim  Bai  rode  over  to  the 
aul  of  Jipptik  to  beg  assistance.  The  rest  of  us  stayed 
behind  in  camp,  literally  snowed  up  on  every  side.  At 
length,  after  some  further  waiting,  we  perceived  a long  string 
of  horses  and  camels  approaching  from  the  north,  the  direc- 
tion of  the  foot-hills  of  the  Alai.  They  were  people  from  the 
aul,  bringing  us  hay  and  fuel.  When  they  came  up,  they 
strongly  advised  us  to  remain  where  we  were  till  the  follow- 
ing morning. 

Early  on  March  6th  we  began  to  make  preparations  as 


THROUGH  ASIA 


13S 

if  for  a military  campaign.  Before  daylight  four  men  start- 
ed on  camels  to  trample  a path  through  the  snow-drifts. 
The  Kirghiz  told  me  that  some  winters  the  snows  were  a 
great  deal  worse  than  they  were  that  winter.  Sometimes 
they  were  piled  up  higher  than  the  top  of  the  tent,  and  inter- 
communication between  the  auls  had  to  be  kept  up  by  means 
of  yaks  specially  trained  to  do  the  work  of  snow-ploughs, 
in  that  with  their  foreheads  and  horns  they  shovel  narrow 
tunnels  or  passages  through  the  snow-drifts. 

The  task  we  had  immediately  before  us  was  to  cross  the  river 
Kizil-su — by  no  means  an  easy  thing  to  do.  Except  for  a deep, 
rapid  current  in  the  middle,  about  ten  or  a dozen  yards  wide, 
the  stream  was  sheathed  in  ice,  and  the  ice  covered  with  heavy 
masses  of  snow.  Moreover,  the  edges  of  the  ice  were  unsafe, 
being  greatly  eaten  into  by  the  water.  It  was  not  at  all  a 
pleasant  sensation  to  sit  on  my  horse's  back  when  he  came  to 
the  edge  of  the  ice  above  the  ford  and  gathered  himself  to- 
gether for  a leap  into  the  water.  If  he  slipped  or  fell,  I felt 
I was  certain  to  get  a cold  bath,  which  in  the  temperature 
that  then  prevailed  would  have  been  anything  but  agreeable; 


IAN  ALI  EMIN  RIDING  THROUGH  THE  SNOW 

worse  than  that — it  would  have  been  dangerous,  seeing  that 
I was  hampered  with  thick,  heavy  furs,  which  were  a great 
impediment  to  freedom  of  movement.  And  even  when  the 
horse  had  made  the  leap  in  safety,  and  was  wading  through 
the  ford,  I only  just  escaped  being  seized  with  giddiness,  for 


VV  Till-:  ALAI  VALLKY 


•39 


the  river  boiled  and  foamed  about  him,  and  raced  along  so 
swiftly  as  almost  to  lift  the  animal  off  his  feet.  Unless  I had 
kept  a firm  hand  on  him,  he  would  have  been  swept  off  the 
ford  into  deej)  water,  where  he  would  have  lost  foothold  and 


CROSSING  TIIK  KIZII.-SC 


been  carried  away  by  the  current.  Nevertheless,  it  is  gener- 
ally in  the  summer  that  mishaps  of  that  sort  occur. 

Once  over  the  Kizil  - su,  we  struck  obliquely  across  the 
valley  towards  the  outer  slopes  of  the  Trans- AlaV  Mountains, 
leaving  the  river  behind  us  on  the  left.  The  ground  was 
difficult  travelling,  owing  to  the  great  number  of  natural 
springs  which  gushed  up  in  every  direction  The  water 
which  oozed  from  them  was  partly  frozen  into  huge  cakes  of 
ice;  and  where  the  temperature  was  somewhat  higher,  it 
trickled  away  unfrozen  underneath  the  snow.  This  gave 
rise  to  soft,  treacherous  expanses  of  snowy  brash,  into  which 
the  horses  sank  at  every  step  From  the  character  of  the 
echo  given  by  their  hoof-beats  we  were  able  to  tell  what  sort 
of  surface  was  hidden  underneath  the  snow.  A dull,  heavy 
sound  meant  hard  frozen  ground;  a clear  metallic  ring  in- 
dicated firm  ice ; while  a muffled,  hollow  sound  told  us  that 
we  were  riding  over  cakes  or  arches  of  ice. 

Gradually  as  we  advanced  the  surface  became  more  un- 
even. \\T  entered  among  the  low  foot-hills  of  the  Trans- 
Alai  range,  leaving  the  pass  of  Talldik  behind  us  on  the 
north.  The  snows  grew  deeper  and  deeper.  After  march- 


140 


THROUGH  ASIA 


ins:  ten  hours  we  decided  to  halt,  althous:h  the  res:ion  around 
was  desolate  in  the  extreme — not  a blade,  not  a living  creat- 
ure to  be  seen.  The  men  cleared  the  snow  away  from  the 
side  of  a low  hill,  and  there  stacked  the  bao-o-ao-e  for  the 
night.  The  camels  that  were  bringing  the  yurt  from  Jipptik 
lagged  behind  on  the  road,  and  we  had  to  wait  a full  hour 
till  they  came  up.  In  the  mean  time  we  kindled  a fire,  and 
gathered  round  it  close  together  in  a circle,  and  tried  to 
warm  our  frozen  limbs  with  tea.  There  were  47°  of  frost 
h'ahr.  (—26°  C.),  and  the  least  touch  made  the  snow  crackle 
like  parchment.  I did  not  get  under  the  shelter  of  the  tent 
until  late  that  nis:ht. 

I have  already  said  that  the  governor  of  Fergana  had  sent 
orders  to  the  Kirghiz  to  have  a tent  and  fuel  prepared  for  us 
at  each  stage  of  our  journey  against  the  day  fixed  for  our  ar- 
rival. The  reason  there  was  no  tent  ready  for  us  when  we 


CROSSING  THE  KIZII.-SU  (a  SECOND  VIEW) 

reached  Urtak,  as  this  particular  place  was  called,  was  due  to 
the  following  untoward  circumstances.  Khoja  Min  Hashi, 
volastnoi  (district  chief)  of  Utch-  teppe,  which  belongs  to  the 
administrative  district  of  Osh,  had  intended  to  meet  me  him- 
self, and  with  that  end  in  view  set  out  to  cross  the  Alai 
Mountains.  Hut  in  the  pass  of  Att-yolli,  near  Talldik,  he 
had  been  overtaken  by  a snow  - hurricane,  and  so  prevented 


I’V  TllK  ALAI  VALLl'A' 


141 


from  continuing  his  journey.  In  the  same  storm  forty  sheep 
were  buried  in  a snow-drift,  their  shepherd  narrowly  escajiing 
with  his  life.  When  he  found  himself  stuck  fast,  the  volast- 
noi  managed  to  get  si.\  other  men  sent  forward  in  his  place 
with  the  tent  and  fuel.  But  they  had  had  hard  work  to  force 
their  way  through  the  pass,  and  after  nine  days’  toil,  and  the 
loss  of  one  horse,  were  compelled  to  abandon  both  tent  and 
fuel.  I'our  of  them,  struggling  on.  succeeded  at  length  in 
getting  through  to  Jipptik,  where  they  borrowed  another 


MARCHING  UP  THE  ALAI  VALLEY 

tent  and  fresh  fuel  from  the  chieftain  of  the  Kirghiz  of  that 
place.  When  we  at  last  met  them  in  Urtak,  they  were  very 
uneasy  about  the  two  comrades  they  had  left  behind.  One 
of  the  four  had  got  a frost-bitten  foot,  while  another  was 
sufferins:  from  snow- blindness.  He  had  been  walking  for 
three  days  through  the  dazzling  snows,  and  consequently  had 
overstrained  his  eyes.  His  companions  did  their  best  to 
screen  their  eyes  with  tufts  of  horse-hair  stuck  between  their 
caps  and  foreheads,  also  with  pieces  of  leather  strap  through 
which  they  had  cut  narrow  openings.  Both  invalids  were 
tended  with  the  greatest  care,  and  at  the  end  of  a couple  of 
days  were  all  right  again. 

It  was  unusuallv  late  that  nierht  before  we  srot  to  bed — 

--  o o 

fully  an  hour  after  midnight  before  all  sounds  were  hushed 
in  camp.  At  that  time  the  thermometer  registered  —25.6° 
Fahr.  (—32°  C.).  It  was  my  usual  practice  to  sleep  alone  in 


142 


THROUGH  ASIA 


tlie  tent,  as  it  was  not  altogether  pleasant  to  have  the 
Kirghiz  too  close : they  are  seldom  the  sole  occupants  of 
their  furs  or  felts.  But  intense  cold  is  a pretty  effective 
safeguard  against  the  inconvenience  I am  alluding  to.  With 
such  a low  temperature  I had  not  the  conscience  to  let  the 
men  lie  under  the  open  sky.  Accordingly,  as  many  of  them 
crowded  into  the  tent  and  stowed  themselves  away  on  the 
carpets  as  could  possibly  squeeze  in,  till  we  lay  as  tightly 
packed  as  herrings  in  a barrel.  Notwithstanding  this,  the 
temperature  inside  the  tent  sank  to  —12.6°  Fahr.  ( — 24.8“C.). 
The  minimum  during  the  night  was  —30.1°  Fahr.  ( — 34.5“  C.). 
The  next  morning  when  we  woke  a shower  of  ice  tiowers 
and  icicles  fell  over  us  from  the  tent-roof.  But  I never  saw 
the  stars  glitter  with  such  matchless  brilliancy  as  they  did 
that  night. 


CM. APT HR  XI 


OVKR  rilK  TRANS-ALAI 

It  was  eleven  o’clock  in  the  clay  when  we  got  started 
on  March  7th.  We  were  all  exhausted  by  the  toilsome 
march  of  the  jirevious  day,  and  it  was  late  when  we  turned 
in.  Hverybody  therefore  was  glad  to  wait  till  the  sun 
warmed  the  air  before  we  set  off  again.  Our  Kirghiz  guides 
led  us  through  a series  of  low  hills  close  alongside  the 
Kara-su.  This  river  oets  its  name  of  the  Black  Water  from 

o 

the  circumstance  that  it  has  its  origin,  not  in  the  snows  of 
this  highland  region,  but  in  natural  springs;  besides  which, 
its  water  was  so  clear  that  in  its  deeper  reaches  it  appeared 
to  be  almost  black.  We  crossed  over  the  stream  two  or 
three  times  on  the  brittle  ice  crust  which  spanned  it  from 
side  to  side.  Underneath  us  we  could  hear  the  water  gur- 
gling and  gulping  with  a clear  metallic  sound.  There  were 
not  above  two  or  three  places  where  we  could  see  the  river 
flowing  unhindered  between  the  stones  with  which  its  bed 
was  encumbered. 

The  snow-drifts  grew  deeper  and  deeper;  so  that  the 
caravan  could  only  make  its  way  through  them  at  a pain- 
fully slow  pace.  Towards  the  east  we  could  see  the  termi- 
nation of  the  Alai  valley,  where  the  offshoots  of  the  Alai'  and 
the  Trans -Alai’  Mountains  met  together  above  a troucjh- 
shaped  depression.  The  outlines  of  the  latter  chain  now 
stood  out  in  sharper  relief,  and  its  crest  flashed  back  the 
dazzling  coruscations  of  light  which  played  about  its  snow- 
mantled  shoulders.  The  chief  tints  were  white  and  blue; 
and  far,  far  above  it  sparkled  the  pure  turquoise  blue  of 
the  Asiatic  sky.  White  gossamer  clouds  like  bridal  veils 
hovered  about  the  summit  of  Kaufmann  Peak  and  the 


144 


THROUGH  ASIA 


neighboring  altitudes.  But  what  icy  cold  — what  frigid 
brides ! 

The  horses  toiled  on  through  the  snow.  The  men  had  to 
be  constantly  on  the  alert,  for  the  packs  were  always  slipping 
round  underneath  the  horses.  Very  often  every  man  in  the 
company  was  wanted  to  lend  a hand  to  get  them  put  straight 
again.  At  the  more  difficult  places  the  characteristic  cries 
of  the  Kirghiz — '' Bismillah !"  (In  God’s  name!)  or  simply 
Haidah !"  (Get  on!) — rang  out  shrilly  upon  the  mountain  air. 

Our  canine  friend  Yollchi  thoroughly  enjoyed  himself. 
He  tumbled  like  an  acrobat  over  the  snow-drifts.  He  rolled 
over  and  over  in  the  snow,  thoroughly  cooling  his  thick, 
shaggy  hide.  One  moment  he  would  playfully  catch  up  a 
mouthful  of  snow,  the  next  he  would  race  off  swift  as  an 
arrow  ahead  of  the  caravan.  The  creature  was  half  wild 
when  he  joined  us  ; and  I never  succeeded  in  making  him 
properly  tame.  Having  been  reared  among  the  Kirghiz,  he 
could  never  by  any  bribe  be  induced  to  come  inside  my  tent. 
For  the  Kirghiz  are  Mohammedans,  and  look  upon  the  dog 
as  an  unclean  animal.  The  very  dust  off  his  feet  would  pol- 
lute the  inside  of  a tent.  I tried  my  best  to  wean  Yollchi 
from  such  superstitious  notions.  But,  do  what  I would,  I 
could  not  get  him  past  the  tent  door — neither  by  fair  means 
nor  foul.  He  had  never  once  in  his  life  set  foot  inside  a 
tent,  and  obviously  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  had  no 
manner  of  business  in  such  a place. 

The  climate  in  that  part  of  the  world  is  not  without  its 
peculiarities.  While  the  sun  is  wellnigh  burning  one  side 
of  your  face,  the  other  side  will  be  freezing.  At  noon,  if  the 
sky  is  clear,  and  there  is  no  wind,  it  gets  so  hot  that  you 
are  glad  to  fling  off  your  sheepskins.  But  the  moment  the 
sun  gets  behind  a cloud,  or  the  shadow  of  a mountain  comes 
between  the  sun  and  yourself,  you  begin  to  shiver  with  cold. 
y\fter  shedding  your  skin  once  or  twice,  your  face  gets  as 
hard  and  dry  as  parchment,  and  you  turn  as  brown  as  a 
Hindu.  At  noon  on  March  5th  the  thermometer  registered 
14°  Fahr.  (—10°  C.)  in  the  shade,  while  the  black-bulb  insola- 
tion thermometer  showed  125.6°  Fahr.  (52°  C.). 


0\'ER  THE  TRANS-AEAI 


•45 


It  beiran  to  darken  while  we  were  still  two  hours  from 

O 

the  next  canij).  'I'he  horses  travelled  so  slowly,  and  my  back 
ached  so  from  the  heavy  furs  I wore,  that,  bidding  Min  Hashi 
accompany  me,  I left  the  caravan,  and  set  off  in  the  darkness 
to  make  my  way  as  best  1 could  over  the  pathless  country. 
Min  Hashi  went  on  first.  I followed  in  the  track,  or  rather 
furrow,  which  his  horse  ])loughed  through  the  snow.  It  was 
a wearying  ride,  and,  but  that  the  stars  shone  brightly,  would 
have  been  as  dark  as  pitch.  At  last,  however,  we  came  to 
the  solitary  little  hut  of  Bor-doba,  Had  there  been  a worthy 
Boniface  in  charge  he  would  have  been  vastly  amazed  to 
hear  two  snow-smothered  horsemen  ride  ujd  to  the  door  at 
that  late  hour  of  the  night,  fasten  their  horses  outside,  stamj) 
the  snow  off  their  clothes  and  boots,  and  without  further 
ceremony  march  into  the  house.  To  prevent  any  miscon- 
ception as  to  the  style  of  “ house  ” it  w'as,  I will  state  at  once 
that  this  rabat  (rest-house)  was  merely  an  earthen  hut,  with 
a wooden  roof  supported  by  rough  beams,  and  that  the  only 
provision  for  sleeping  was  a square  bank  of  earth  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  This  and  a few  similar  huts  have  been 
put  up  by  the  direction  of  the  governor  of  Eergana  for  the 
convenience  of  the  mounted  post -messengers  who  travel 
backward  and  forward  between  Margelan  and  Fort  Pamir. 
This  particular  hut  stood  at  the  foot  of  a desolate  hill,  and 
from  that  circumstance  gets  its  name  of  Bor-doba,  a corrup- 
tion of  Bor-teppe,  the  Gray  Hill.  We  both  dropped  straight 
off  to  sleep,  and  slept  until  the  bustle  and  noise  caused  by 
the  arrival  of  the  caravan  awakened  us.  Then  we  had  tea 
made,  and  warmed  ourselves  over  a Morious  fire. 

o 

r>n  the  way  to  Bor-doba  we  saw  the  tracks  of  eight  wolves, 
which  had  crossed  over  the  valley  in  a scattered  troop  from 
the  Alai'  Mountains  to  the  Trans-Ala'i.  Farther  on  they  all 
struck  into  our  track,  which  led  through  a narrow  opening 
between  two  hills.  The  Kirghiz  told  me  it  was  an  old  and 
well-known  wolf-trail.  The  next  morning  at  daybreak,  when 
my  men  went  out  to  see  after  the  horses,  they  caught  sight 
of  seven  wolves  sneaking  away  in  the  direction  of  Kizil-art. 

Wolves  are  very  common  in  those  regions.  During  the 


lO 


146 


THROUGH  ASIA 


summer  they  haunt  the  Alai'  valley,  and  levy  tribute  upon 
the  Kirghiz  flocks  of  sheep.  The  Kirghiz  sheep-dogs  can 
see  them  more  than  a mile  off ; but  are  frequently  out- 
witted by  the  wolves,  who  will  hang  about  a flock  for  weeks 
at  a time,  persistently  spying  out  for  a favorable  opportunit}' 
to  seize  their  prey.  They  are  extremely  bloodthirsty  and 
murderous;  and  if  by  any  chance  they  light  upon  an  unpro- 
tected flock,  will  kill  every  sheep  in  it,  leaving  not  a single 


BOR-DOBA 

animal  alive.  Not  many  weeks  previously  a single  wolf  had 
in  the  course  of  one  night  bitten  to  death  180  sheep  belong- 
ing to  a Kirghiz  of  Utch-teppe.  But  woe  betide  the  wolf 
that  has  the  ill-luck  to  be  wounded  by  the  Kirghiz,  and  falls 
alive  into  their  hands.  They  force  open  his  mouth,  thrust 
a short,  thick  piece  of  wood  between  his  jaws,  and  lash  them 
all  firmly  together.  Another  heavy  piece  of  wood  is  fastened 
to  one  of  his  feet,  to  prevent  him  from  running  away.  Then 
they  torture  him  to  death.  On  one  occasion  I was  instru- 
mental in  putting  an  end  to  a horrible  scene  of  this  kind. 

When  the  great  winter  snows  fall  in  the  .Ala'i  valley,  the 
wolves  go  up  to  the  Pamirs,  and  range  the  districts  around 
Lake  Kara-kul,  preying  j)rincipally  upon  the  magnificent  ark- 
hari  or  argali  {Oz^is  /*o/i) — i.e.,  the  wild  sheep  of  Central  .Asia 
— as  well  as  upon  the  kiyick  (goat)  and  hares.  In  hunting  the 


OVER  THE  TRAXS-ALAI 


147 


wild  sheep  the  wolves  display  remarkable  craft  and  intelli- 
gence. Having  enclosed  the  sheep  in  a wide  ring,  they  be- 
gin to  howl,  so  as  to  make  their  presence  known,  and  gradu- 
ally close  in  upon  their  prey.  When  they  get  near  enough, 
they  cut  off  two  or  three  of  the  sheep  and  force  them  to  take 
refuge  on  a narrow,  outjutting  crag,  from  which  there  is  no 
return  except  into  their  jaws.  If  the  crag  is  too  steep  for 
them  to  scale  it,  they  patiently  wait  at  the  bottom  until  the 
wild  she*ep's  slender  legs  become  numbed  from  sheer  weari- 
ness, and  they  roll  down  the  precipice  into  the  jaws  of  their 
ravenous  persecutors.  In  the  vicinity  of  Kara-kul  we  often 
saw  flocks  of  arkhari  quietly  grazing  a couple  of  miles  from 
us.  The  Kirghiz  used  to  discover  them  at  a marvellous  dis- 
tance,  so  far  off  in  fact  that  I,  with  my  most  powerful  field- 
glass,  could  only  just  discern  something  of  their  movements. 
In  various  parts  of  the  Pamirs  travellers  come  across  their 
skulls,  bleached  by  the  sun  and  still  adorned  with  their  huge 
curled  horns.  These  are  no  doubt  the  sole  remains  of 
wolves’  feasts. 

According  to  the  Kirghiz,  two  wolves  can  sometimes  be 
dangerous  to  a solitarv  man.  Thev  told  me  manv  blood- 
curdling  stories  about  wolves  and  their  depredations  up  in 
those  lofty  regions  of  Asia.  A few  years  ago  a man  was  at- 
tacked and  killed  by  wolves  in  the  pass  of  Talldik,  and  when 
a day  or  two  afterwards  the  Kirghiz  went  to  fetch  down  his 
body,  there  was  nothing  left  except  the  bare  skeleton.  On 
another  occasion  a Kirghiz  perished  in  a buran  in  the  Kizil- 
art  pass.  A week  later  the  man’s  corpse  was  found  in  the 
snow ; but  the  horse  which  he  rode  had  been  entirely  de- 
voured by  wolves.  Only  the  previous  winter  one  of  my 
Kirghiz  guides  and  a jighit  (Sart  messenger)  were  surround- 
ed by  a dozen  wolves.  Fortunately  they  were  armed,  and 
shot  two  of  them.  These  were  immediately  devoured  by 
the  rest,  after  which  they  all  took  to  flight. 

At  Bor-doba  we  rested  a day.  I employed  it  in  making 
scientific  observations.  For  one  thing,  we  cut  a vertical 
section  three  feet  deep  through  the  snow,  and  found  it  was 
deposited  in  six  separate  layers,  showing  different  degrees  of 


148 


THROUGH  ASIA 


purity  and  consistenc}\  The  bottom  layer  was  85  inches 
thick,  of  a dirty  appearance,  and  almost  as  hard  as  ice.  The 
top  layer,  17  inches  thick,  was  soft  and  pure  as  wool.  It  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  different  layers  or  strata  of 
snow  corresponded  to  different  periods  of  snowfall,  and  that 
those  which  lay  underneath  were  pressed  together  by  the 
weight  of  the  superimposed  layers;  so  that  during  the  win- 
ter of  1893-94  about  six  vertical  feet  of  snow  must  have 
fallen  in  the  place  where  we  made  our  section.  The  tem- 
perature of  the  air  at  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  was  7.5° 
Fahr.  (— 13.6°  C.) ; the  black  bulb  insolation  thermometer 
gave  a reading  of  115.9°  U^br.  (46.6°  C.).  Nevertheless,  at  a 
depth  of  if  inches  in  the  snow  the  temperature  was  only 
— 8.5°  Fahr.  (--22.5°  C.).  This  tends  to  prove  that  the  differ- 
ences in  the  daily  range  of  temperature  were  scarcely  sensi- 
ble at  even  that  slight  depth,  or  distance,  from  the  direct 
action  of  the  sun’s  rays.  (The  minimum  of  the  preceding 
night  was  —18.8°  Fahr.  or  —28.2°  C.).  As  we  went  down 
towards  the  surface  of  the  solid  ground — that  is, deeper — meas- 
uring from  the  crust  of  snow,  we  found  that  the  temperature 
gradually  increased.  For  instance,  at  a depth  of  17  inches  it 
was  12.2°  Fahr.  (—11°  C.) ; at  23  inches,  17.6°  Fahr.  ( — 8°  C.); 
at  25-(  inches,  18°  Fahr.  ( — 7.8°  C.);  at  27^  inches,  21.7°  Fahr. 
( — 5.7^  C.) ; and  on  the  ground,  or  at  a depth  of  36  inches, 
24.1°  Fahr.  ( — 4.4°  C.). 

The  orroLind  was  frozen  as  hard  as  a stone.  But  with 

O 

pickaxes  and  hatchets  we  made  a hole  two  feet  deep  and  put 
down  a thermometer:  it  registered  30.4°  Fahr.  ( — 0.9°  C.). 
Taking  the  whole  series  of  observations  together,  I came  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  solid  earth  freezes  to  a depth  of  a 
little  over  three  feet  and  a quarter;  which  agrees  with  the 
results  I obtained  in  other  jiarts  of  the  Pamirs.  Prom  what 
the  Kirghiz  told  me,  I inferred  that  the  frozen  ground  thaws 
through  to  the  bottom  during  the  summer. 

On  the  morning  of  March  9th  all  the  Kirghiz  fell  upon 
their  knees  in  the  snow  and  ])rayed  to  Allah  to  vouchsafe 
them  a safe  journey  through  the  dreaded  pass  of  Kizil-art. 
I fully  prepared  myself  for  a terrible  journey,  for  in  the  pass 


OVER  THE  TRANS-AEAI 


149 


of  Kizil-art  the  snow  - hurricanes  are  wont  to  swoop  clown 
upon  the  unsuspecting  traveller  out  of  a perfectly  cloudless 
sky:  but  to  my  surin’ise  I found  it  much  easier  than  the  pass 
of  renghiz-bai,  esjjecially  as  we  were  favored  with  the  best 
of  weatlier.  Hor-doba  lies  at  such  a great  altitude  that  the 
climb  thence  to  the  pass,  which  crosses  the  highest  ridge 
of  the  'I'rans  - Alai,  was  not  especially  steep.  The  torrent 
which  races  down  from  the  jiass  in  sj)ring  and  summer  was 
now  frozen  uji,  and  its  bed  choked  with  sheets  of  ice,  which, 
being  polished  bright  by  the  wind,  reflected  the  blue  sky 


SOME  OF  OUR  PACK-HORSES 

like  a mirror.  For  the  most  part  the  range  consisted  of  red- 
dish sandstones  and  clay -slates:  the  former  varying  from 
brick  color  to  blood-red  in  tint,  the  latter  being  dark  green, 
light  green,  and  gray.  Fhe  bottom  of  the  valley  was  thickly 
strewn  with  debris  and  disintegrated  rocks,  brought  down 
from  the  higher  regions  of  the  mountains. 

The  gradients  grew  steeper  as  we  approached  the  summit 
of  the  pass,  and  the  snows  lay  deeper.  But  we  reached  the 
top  (14,015  feet)  without  any  mishap:  though  when  we  got 
there  we  were  assailed  by  an  icy  northern  wind,  which  pen- 
etrated sheepskins  and  felt  boots  alike. 

On  the  very  highest  poim  of  the  pass  stood  the  burial- 
cairn  of  the  Mohammedan  saint  Kizil-art,  a mound  of  stones, 
decorated  with  the  religious  offerings  of  pious  Kirghiz — name- 
ly, tughs  {i.e.,  sticks  with  rags  tied  round  them),  pieces  of  cloth, 
and  antelopes’  horns.  Arrived  at  this  shrine,  my  men  again 


THROUGH  ASIA 


150 

fell  upon  their  knees,  and  thanked  Allah  for  having  pre- 
served them  on  the  way  up  to  the  top  of  the  dreaded  pass. 
They  told  me  that  Kizil-art  was  an  aidia  or  saint,  who  in 
the  time  of  the  Prophet  travelled  from  the  Alai  valley  to  the 
countries  of  the  south  to  preach  abroad  the  true  faith.  In 
the  course  of  his  journey  he  discovered  this  pass,  to  which 
he  gave  his  own  name.  He  is  said  to  be  now  buried  on  the 
highest  point  of  it.  Others  of  the  Kirghiz  gave  a much 
more  probable  explanation  of  the  name — namely,  that  the 
cairn  has  simply  been  built  in  commemoration  of  the  saint. 
P^urther,  they  fully  believe  that,  if  the  holy  Kizil-art  had  not 
discovered  the  pass,  it  would  be  impossible,  even  at  the 
present  day,  to  travel  across  the  Pamirs  from  this  direction- 
Tradition  has  also  preserved  the  memory  of  his  six  brothers, 
all  of  them  holy  men  like  himself.  Their  names  were  Mus- 
art,  Kok-art,  Khatin-art,  Kolun-art,  Ghez-art,  and  Ak-art.  The 
suffix  “ art  ” is  one  out  of  several  Kirghiz  words  meaning 
“ pass,”  and  each  of  these  six  names  is  applied  to  a pass  in 
the  mountains  of  the  Pamirs. 


CHAI’THR  XII 


LAKE  KARA-Kl'E 

On  the  southern  side  of  the  range  there  was  at  first  a good 
deal  of  snow  ; but  it  soon  began  to  get  thinner.  At  the  end 
of  a march  of  eight  hours’  duration  we  came  to  tlie  little 
caravanserai  of  Kok-sai.  I'he  name  of  this  j^lace  is  indelibly 
engraven  upon  my  memory.  It  was  there  I recorded  the 
lowest  temperature  it  has  been  my  lot  to  observe  in  the 
course  of  all  my  journeyings  through  .Asia.  The  quicksilver 
thermometer  fell  to  —36.8°  Fahr.  ( — 38.2°  C.),  that  is,  almost 
as  low  as  the  freezing-point  of  mercury. 

South  of  the  pass  of  Kizil-art  the  landscaj^e  changed  its 
character  entirely.  There  was  a far  smaller  quantity  of 
snow.  Over  large  areas  the  surface  of  the  earth  was  bare 
and  exposed,  in  others  buried  under  sand  and  the  debris  of 
disintegrated  rocks.  The  mountains  were  softer  and  more 
rounded  in  outline,  and  their  relative  altitudes  were  less  ; 
while  their  several  ridges  or  crests  were  separated  from  one 
another  by  broad,  shallow,  trough  - shaped  valleys.  The  re- 
gion around  Lake  Kara-kul,  between  the  passes  of  Kizil-art 
and  Ak-baital,  possesses  no  drainage  outlet  towards  the 
.Amu-daria;  and  the  products  of  disintegration  are  not  car- 
ried away  by  the  streams,  but  remain  and  help  to  level  up 
the  natural  inequalities  of  the  surface.  In  other  words,  the 
distinction  holds  good  here  which  Baron  von  Richthofen 
lays  down  as  obtaining  between  regions  which  have  no 
drainage  outlet  and  peripheral  regions  which  have  a drain- 
age outlet. 

All  day  long  on  March  loth  we  rode  towards  the  south- 
east, crossing  in  the  early  part  of  the  day  an  open  trough- 
shaped valley,  girdled  by  low,  snow-clad  mountain  ridges  of 


152 


THROUGH  ASIA 


moderate  height.  In  the  valley  itself  there  was  very  little 
snow.  What  there  was  lay  in  thin,  scattered  patches.  Be- 
fore us  on  the  right  the  valley  opened  out  wider,  and  swelled 
up  into  a series  of  low,  rounded  hills.  On  the  left  a spur 
ran  out  southwestward  across  the  valley,  terminating  in  a 
single  isolated  cone.  Continuing  on  up  this  gradually  rising 
ground,  we  came,  at  the  end  of  another  four  hours’  march,  to 
the  little  pass  of  Uy-bulak,  from  the  summit  of  which  we  had 
a grand  panorama  towards  the  southeast.  Far  down  under 
our  feet  we  could  see  the  northeast  corner  of  Great  Kara-kul, 
cased  in  a panoply  of  ice  and  mantled  with  snow.  All  round 
it  stood  a ring  of  giant  mountains,  draped  from  head  to  foot 
in  one  unbroken  garment  of  dazzling  snow.  Wh’thin  the 
pass  the  snow  was  once  more  15  to  16  inches  deep,  and 
coated  with  a curiously  hard,  dry  crust,  tough  as  parchment, 
and  so  strong  that  the  horses  frequently  went  over  it  with- 
out breaking  it.  It  was  just  as  though  we  were  travelling 
over  a huge,  tight-stretched  sheepskin. 

From  Uy-bulak  and  the  foot  of  the  mountains  a broad 
steppe  sloped  downward  at  an  almost  imperceptible  angle 
towards  the  northern  shore  of  the  lake.  Except  in  a few 
places,  it  was  almost  entirely  covered  with  snow,  which,  un- 
der the  force  of  the  prevailing  westerly  and  northwesterly 
winds,  had  assumed  a strangely  odd  appearance.  It  resem- 
bled a number  of  small  parallel  dunes,  or  the  wrinkled  folds 
that  come  into  cream  when  it  is  poured  out  on  the  ground 
and  left  to  freeze.  Several  clumps  of  tereskcn,  a hard,  dry, 
scrubby  shrub  which  yields  excellent  fuel,  were  scattered 
about  the  stej^pe. 

The  sun  set  at  six  o’clock.  At  the  moment  of  his  disap- 
pearance the  shadows  of  the  mountains  on  the  west  side  of 
the  plain  raced  across  it  so  swiftly  that  it  was  difficult  for  the 
eye  to  follow  them.  Then  they  slowly  mounted  up  the  Hank 
of  the  mountains  on  the  east  side,  till  nothing  but  the  top- 
most pyraniidal  j)eaks  were  left  glowing  in  the  evening  sun- 
shine. A quarter  of  an  hour  later,  and  the  entire  region  was 
dimmed  with  the  twilight.  The  mountains  on  the  east  stood 
out  like  pale,  chilly  spectres  against  the  background  of  the 


(;ki-;at  kaka-kul  skkn  from  uv-rui.ak 


i 


LAKi:  KARA-KUL 


'55 


raj^iclly  darkening  sky  ; wliile  tliose  in  the  west  were  like  a 
black  silhouette  thrown  upon  the  brighter  — light  blue  and 
mauve  tinted — atmosj)here  behind  them. 

W'e  halted  not  far  from  the  shore  of  Cireat  Kara-kul,  tak- 
ing shelter  in  an  earthen  hut,  where  we  passed  the  night  in 
warmth  and  comfort. 

On  the  mornins:  of  March  iith  1 set  off  to  cross  the 
lake  towards  the  southwest,  taking  with  me  a specially  se- 
lected portion  of  the  caravan — namely,  two  Sart  jighits,  two 
hardy  Kirghiz  — all  of  us  being  mounted,  with  two  pack- 
horses  carrying  the  baggage.  We  also  took  with  us  pro- 
visions and  fuel  to  last  two  days,  as  well  as  a tcs^hermckh  (a 
small  conical  Kirghiz  tent),  an  iron  bar,  axes,  spades,  and  the 
sounding  apparatus  and  line.  Before  leaving  the  rest  of  my 
people  I arranged  with  them  to  meet  us  at  the  next  camp- 
imr-station,  not  far  from  the  southeast  corner  of  the  lake. 

Kara-kul  is  a saline  lake,  with  an  area  of  120  to  150  square 
miles,  and  is  shut  in  by  mountain-chains  of  considerable  ele- 
vation. But  on  the  north,  east,  and  southeast  the  mountains 
recede  sufficiently  far  from  its  shores  to  leave  room  for  a 
strip  of  steppe-like  plain,  two  or  three  miles  in  breadth.  Its 
Kirghiz  name,  which  means  the  Black  Lake,  is  so  far  appro- 
priate, in  that  in  summer  its  waters  do  appear  dark  when 
contrasted  with  the  mountains  which  hem  it  in,  for  even  in 
that  season  broad  patches  of  snow  often  continued  to  lie  on 
the  ground.  Its  maximum  length  is  about  twelve  miles;  its 
maximum  breadth  about  ten.  A peninsula  jutting  out  from 
the  southern  shore,  and  an  island  Iving  almost  due  north  of 
the  peninsula,  divide  the  lake  into  two  basins — an  eastern, 
which  is  extremely  shallow,  and  a western,  much  the  larger, 
and  going  down  to  abysmal  depths.  The  object  of  my  first 
day’s  investigations  was  the  eastern  basin. 

About  two  and  a half  miles  from  the  shore  we  came  to  a 
halt.  The  iron  bar  and  axes  were  immediately  brought  into 
requisition.  It  cost  us  an  hour’s  hard  labor  to  break  through 
the  ice,  for  it  was  pretty  nearly  three  feet  thick.  The  ice 
was  hard  and  transparent,  and  brittle  as  glass.  The  last 
stroke  of  the  iron  bar  made  a hole  through  which  the  water 

O 


THROUGH  ASIA 


156 

gushed  and  boiled  up  till  it  filled  the  pit  we  had  made  in  the 
ice  to  within  an  inch  or  two  of  the  top.  It  was  clear  as  crys- 
tal, but  of  a greenish-black  color,  and  bitter  to  the  taste.  We 
letdown  the  sounding-cord,  which  was  divided  off  into  lengths 
of  ten  yards.  But  very  little  more  than  the  first  length  passed 
my  hands.  With  the  help  of  the  measuring-tape  I found  that 
the  lake  had  a depth  of  nearly  4H  feet-  The  temperature 
of  the  water  was  31.3°  Fahr.  (-0.4°  C.)  in  the  hole,  and  29.8'’ 
Fahr.  (1.2°  C.)  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake.  As  soon  as  we  had 
finished  the  hole,  which  was  nearly  four  feet  across,  the  ice  be- 
gan to  crack  in  every  direction  all  around  with  loud  reports, 
while  a series  of  curious  sounds  issued  from  underneath  it  in 
quick  succession. 

We  went  on  another  two  and  a half  miles,  and  made  an- 
other sounding-hole.  Then  we  struck  across  the  ice  towards 
the  little  island  I have  mentioned,  hewing  a third  hole  on 
the  way.  We  landed  beside  a narrow  creek,  and  rode  across 
the  island  till  we  found  a suitable  camping  - ground.  The 
Kirghiz  said  the  island  had  never  before  been  visited  by  hu- 
man beings.  We  pitched  the  small  yurt  (tent)  we  had  brought 
with  us,  and  immediatelv  in  front  of  the  entrance  made  a fire 
of  teresken  fagots.  Then,  having  taken  our  supper,  we  spent 
a raw,  cold,  disagreeable  night,  with  the  temperature  down  to 
— 20.2°  Fahr.  { — 29°  C.),  at  an  altitude  of  13,000  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea. 

We  woke  up  early  the  following  morning,  frozen,  numbed, 
and  out  of  humor.  We  rode  across  the  ice  about  three  miles 
due  west  from  the  island,  then  stopped  and  set  about  sound- 
ing the  depth  of  the  western  basin.  The  normal  tension  of 
the  ice  was  of  course  the  same  in  every  quarter.  Our  riding 
over  it  naturally  disturbed  the  equilibrium  by  increasing  the 
downward  pressure.  As  we  moved  along,  every  step  the 
horses  took  was  accompanied  by  peculiar  sounds.  (Jne 
moment  there  was  a growling  like  the  deep  bass  notes  of  an 
organ  ; the  next  it  was  as  though  somebody  were  thumping  a 
big  drum  in  the  “Hat  below”;  then  came  a crash  as  though 
a railway-carriage  door  was  being  banged  to;  then  as  though 
a bi<r  round  stone  had  been  flung  into  the  lake.  These 


TAKiNc;  A sor\i)i\(;  iiikol’(,ii  tiih  ick  ok  (;i<i;a'i  kara-kui. 


LAKK  KARA-KUL 


>59 


sounds  were  accompanied  by  alternate  whistlings  and  winn- 
ings : while  every  now  and  again  we  seemed  to  hear  far  off 
submarine  explosions.  At  ev'ery  loud  report  the  horses 
twitched  their  ears  and  started,  while  the  men  glanced  at  one 
another  with  superstitious  terror  in  their  faces.  The  Sarts 
believed  that  the  sounds  were  caused  by  “ big  fishes  knock- 
ing their  heads  against  the  ice.”  Hut  the  more  intelligent 
Kirghiz  instructed  them  there  were  no  fish  in  Kara-kul. 


MAKING  A SOUNDING-HOLK  IN  LAKE  KARA-KUL 

Then  when  I asked  thc7)i  what  was  the  cause  of  the  strange 
sounds  we  heard  under  the  ice,  and  what  was  going  on  there, 
they  answered  with  true  Oriental  phlegm,  Khoda  billadi !" 
(God  alone  knows  !)  Anyway,  if  the  faithless  Lady  Ran* 
were  hatching  mischief  against  us,  she  strangely  miscalcu- 
lated her  power.  The  ice  did  not  break;  it  would  have 
borne  the  whole  of  the  city  of  Stockholm. 

That  day  too  we  were  favored  with  splendid  weather — 
not  a speck  of  cloud,  not  a breath  of  wind.  There  were 
nearly  three  inches  of  hard  snow  on  the  ice,  which  prevent- 
ed the  horses  from  slipping.  How  different  all  this  was  from 
the  discouraging  accounts  given  me  in  West  Turkestan. 
There  they  told  me  that  Kara-kul  was  never  free  from  snow- 


The  goddess  of  lakes  in  the  old  Scandinavian  mythology'. 


i6o 


THROUGH  ASIA 


hurricanes,  that  every  flake  of  snow  which  fell  was  instantly 
swept  away,  and  that  I might  look  to  have  the  entire  caravan 
blown  bodily  across  the  glassy  surface  of  the  lake.  Besides 
all  this,  they  assured  me  I should  have  to  put  up  a tent  and 
hew  my  sounding-hole  inside  it;  instead  of  which  we  did  the 
work  in  the  open  air  and  in  bright  sunshine. 

During  the  course  of  the  day  we  rode  across  the  lake 
from  the  north  side  to  the  south,  making  four  other  holes  on 
the  way. 

The  results  of  the  soundings  are  embodied  in  the  subjoined 
table:  the  Roman  numerals  indicating  the  bore-hole,  the  first 


column  the  depth 

of  the  lake  in  feet,  the 

second 

and  third 

the  temperature  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake 

on  the  Fahrenheit 

and  Centigrade  scales  respectively,  and  the  fourth 

the  thick- 

ness  of  the  ice : 

Eastern  Basin 

Ft.  In.  Fahr. 

c. 

Ft.  In. 

I 

41  3 34-2° 

1.2° 

2 iij 

II 

42  9 34.9° 

1.6° 

3 54 

III.  .... 

62  10  35.2° 

1.8° 

2 6 

IVestern  Basin 

IV 

. 726  5 38.1° 

3-4° 

I 7 

V 

• 748  5 38-3° 

3-5° 

I 6 

VI 

• 75^  3 38.3° 

3-5'’ 

• 4j 

VII 

• 256  3 35.8° 

2.1° 

I 83- 

These  figures  show  that  the  eastern  basin  is  shallow,  while 
the  western  is  very  deep.  A glance  at  the  map,  or  better 
still  at  the  lake  itself,  suggests  that  the  contour  of  the  lake 
bottom  and  its  shores  should  be  what  the  actual  measure- 
ments jjroved  it  to  be.  The  eastern  basin  is  bordered  by  a 
tract  of  stepjje  - land,  which  slopes  gently  down  towards  its 
shore.  The  western  basin  is  overhung  by  high,  steep  moun- 
tains. The  lake  is  fed  by  several  small  brooks,  which  have 
their  origin  in  natural  sjrrings  in  the  \’icinity,  and  from  the 
melting  of  the  snows  on  the  mountains  around,  d'he  springs 
are  esjjecially  plentiful  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  lake,  and  form 
large  pools  or  marshes.  One  other  deduction  may  be  drawn 


LAKK  KARA-KUL 


i6i 


from  the  table  given  above,  though  it  is  so  self-evident  as 
scarcely  to  need  jxarticularizing.  It  is  this:  with  e\’ery  in- 
crease in  the  depth  of  the  lake,  the  temperature  rose  and  the 
ice  grew  thinner. 

Shortly  after  passing  a little  jjromontory,  we  saw  before  us 
the  long  fjord  or  gulf  which  cuts  deep  into  the  southern 
shore.  It  presented  a striking  picture;  for,  while  the  declivi- 
ties came  down  at  an  angle  of  twenty  degrees  on  the  west, 
there  was  on  the  cast  a flat  shelf  slo])ing  up  gently  towards 
the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  in  the  background,  at  the  head 


.-V  SMAI.l.  ISI.AXD  IN  LAKE  KARA-KUL 

of  the  fjord,  a semicircle  of  the  snow-clad  giants  of  the  Pamirs, 
[udging  from  what  I could  see  of  the  configuration  of  the 
ground,  I hardly  think  that  the  southern  half  of  the  fjord  can 
e.xceed  i6o  feet  in  depth. 

W e cut  our  last  sounding-hole  ris^ht  in  the  middle  of  the 
mouth  of  the  fjord.  As  soon  as  we  got  through  the  ice,  three 
of  the  men  begged  to  be  allowed  to  ride  on  in  advance  with 
the  horses  to  .Ak-tam,  the  place  near  the  southeast  corner  of 
the  lake  where  we  had  agreed  to  spend  the  night,  so  that  they 
might  get  the  tent  ready  against  my  arrival.  I and  the  jighit 
Shir  remained  behind  to  take  the  soundings.  By  the  time  we 
had  finished,  it  was  dark ; yet  not  so  dark  but  that  we  could 
see  to  follow  the  trail  of  the  other  men  who  had  gone  on  to 
camp.  We  tracked  them  obliquely  across  the  fjord,  but  lost 
the  trail  when  we  touched  the  shore.  We  rode  a long  time 
across  the  peninsula,  which  I have  mentioned  before,  scram- 
1 1 


i62 


THROUGH  ASIA 


bling  over  sand  and  stones  and  other  products  of  disintegra- 
tion. In  a little  the  crescent  of  the  moon  appeared  above 
the  horizon,  and  shed  down  its  cold,  pale  beams  upon  the 
desolate  scene.  And  desolate  indeed  it  was — not  a sound 
to  be  heard,  not  a vestige  of  a living  creature  to  be  seen. 
Every  now  and  then  we  stopped  and  shouted — no  answer. 
Once  we  came  across  the  trail  in  a scanty  snow-drift.  But 
the  next  moment  the  moon  was  shrouded  in  the  night-mist, 
and  we  lost  it  again.  After  riding  for  fully  four  hours,  we 
came  to  the  shore  of  the  eastern  basin.  But  we  saw  no  sis:n 
of  horsemen,  no  signal-fire,  no  appearance  of  a camp. 

The  other  men  had,  it  was  evident,  travelled  another  way. 
The  question  was — which  way.'*  We  rode  on  another  hour, 
trusting  to  chance  to  guide  us.  But  it  was  all  to  no  pur- 
pose; we  could  not  find  those  we  sought.  We  determined 
therefore  to  halt  for  the  night.  The  spot  where  we  came  to 
this  resolve  was  a level  expanse  of  sand,  dotted  with  thin 
patches  of  snow.  We  tethered  the  horses  together  by  a 
halter  to  prevent  them  from  running  away.  The  poor  creat- 
ures, which  had  had  no  food  all  day,  hungrily  scraped  at  the 
sand  with  their  hoofs  ; but  they  found  nothing  except  the 
tough,  hard  roots  of  teresken.  At  these  they  tugged  greedi- 
ly. Having  made  the  best  preparations  for  spending  the 
night  that  our  resources  admitted  of,  we  sat  close  together, 
and  talked  till  an  hour  after  midnight,  firing  one  another’s 
fears  with  grewsome  wolf  stories.  Shir  said,  however,  that  if 
danger  threatened  us  from  that  quarter  the  horses  would  be 
our  best  protectors,  as  they  would  be  certain  to  give  us 
warning. 

Having  thoroughly  tired  ourselves  with  talking,  we  squat- 
ted down  Kirghiz- fashion  in  our  sheej)skins  — />.,  on  our 
knees,  with  our  backs  to  the  wind.  I made  a j)illow  of  the 
portfolio  or  satchel  which  contained  my  maps,  sketch-book, 
thermometers,  and  so  forth.  But  I was  not  a Kirghiz.  1 
found  it  impossible  to  sleej)  in  that  attitude.  lA'ery  now  and 
then  Shir  dropped  off  and  began  to  snore;  but  1 could  not 
sleep  a wink.  I tried  the  j)Osition  we  luiropeans  are  accus- 
tomed to,  but  was  soon  chilled  through  by  the  cold,  and  had 


LAKK  KARA-KUL 


163 

to  rise  and  move  about  to  get  warm  again,  b'rom  time  to 
time  the  horses  nuzzled  against  us,  as  if  to  remind  us  that 
we  had  forgotten  to  give  them  their  supjjer. 

hortunately  for  us  the  night  wind  was  not  too  fresh,  and 
the  temperature  only  fell  to  4.1°  hahr.  (—15.5  C.), 

About  six  o’eloclc  in  the  morning  day  broke,  and  we 
mounted  into  the  saddle,  hungry  and  stiff  with  cold.  W e 
rode  southward  for  an  hour,  till  we  came  to  a place  where 


Till-:  STOXK  HUT  .\T  .\K-TAM 

there  was  a litlle  scanty  yellow  grass,  left  by  the  last  flock  of 
sheep  which  browsed  over  the  spot  in  the  autumn.  While 
the  horses  grazed  for  an  hour  or  two,  I and  Shir  got  a good 
sleep,  for  the  sun  was  up  and  kept  us  warm. 

Having  mounted  again,  we  pushed  on  still  towards  the 
south.  On  the  way  we  met  a solitary  Kirghiz,  travelling  on 
foot  from  Rang-kul  to  the  Alai'  valley.  As  with  most  of  his 
race,  his  eyes  were  as  sharp  as  a hawk’s ; he  had  discovered 
us  nearly  two  miles  before  meeting  us,  I and  Shir  found 
our  comrades  at  the  end  of  another  hour’s  ridino-.  Our  first 

o 

concern  was  to  thaw  our  stiffened  limbs  and  warm  ourselves 
with  hot  tea;  then,  while  the  horses  were  eating  their  fod- 
der, we  despatched  our  breakfast,  consisting  chiefly  of  mut- 
ton and  tinned  provisions. 

March  14th.  The  country  rose  from  the  Kara-kul  very 


164 


THROUGH  ASIA 


gradually  towards  the  south.  Before  we  had  travelled  far, 
we  rode  into  a broad  valley,  stretching  between  two  parallel 
mountain  - ranges,  which  ran  north  and  south,  and  were 
sheathed  in  snow.  As  a rule,  a larger  quantity  of  snow  falls 
every  year  in  this  valley  than  around  Great  Kara-kul,  though 
the  depth  seldom  exceeds  four  inches.  Thick  clouds  hung 
about  the  mountain-tops;  everywhere  else  the  sky  was  per- 
fectly clear.  About  noon,  however,  the  wind  got  up,  and  it 
soon  blew  with  great  violence.  For  close  upon  five  hours 
we  rode  steadily  towards  the  south-southwest;  but  coming 
to  a bifurcation  of  the  valley,  we  turned  to  the  left  and 
struck  out  towards  the  south-southeast.  Just  where  the  val- 
ley divided,  we  saw,  conspicuously  crowning  a low  hill,  the 
masar  or  tomb  of  the  Kir«;hiz  saint  Oksali,  built  of  slabs  of 
stone  and  decorated  with  horns  and  tughs  (sticks  with  rags 
and  pieces  of  cloth  tied  round  them). 

The  valley  into  which  we  turned  was  the  valley  of  Mus- 
kol,  which  led  up  to  the  pass  of  Ak-baital.  There  was  but 
little  snow  on  the  ground;  but  as  we  advanced,  the  surface 
became  more  and  more  thickly  strewn  with  disintegrated 
debris. 

Upon  my  arrival  in  camp  I was  met  by  four  Kirghiz, 
wearing  their  gala  khalats  (coats).  They  had  been  sent 
from  Fort  Pamir  to  welcome  me,  and  had  been  waiting  five 
days,  with  a tent  and  supplies  of  food  and  fuel.  They  told 
me  that  my  long  delay  had  begun  to  make  the  Russian  of- 
ficers at  the  fort  uneasy.  As  a matter  of  fact,  we  had  been 
seriously  delayed  by  the  enormous  quantities  of  snow  we 
met  with  in  the  Alai’  valley. 

The  word  Mus-kol  signifies  “ice  valley.”  .Soiik -chubir, 
the  place  where  we  encamjDed,  might  very  well  mean  Cold 
Siberia,  for  the  usual  name  for  that  region  in  Turk  is 
Chubir  (.Siberia).  'Whether  this  last  interpretation  is  correct 
or  not,  and  it  is  not  quite  certain  that  it  is,  both  names  may 
with  good  show  of  reason  be  said  to  be  approjjriale.  h'or 
the  region  thereabouts  is  characterized  by  an  excessive  win- 
ter cold  ; while  the  valley  is  distinguished  for  a remarkable 
natural  jdienomenon,  which  I will  now  jjroceed  to  describe. 


LAKI<:  KARA-KUL 


■65 


'I'he  little  stream  which  traverses  the  valley  of  Mus-kol 
has  its  origin  for  the  most  part  in  natural  springs.  During 
the  winter  the  water  gradually  freezes  and  sj)reads  across 
the  valley  in  huge  “cakes”  or  sheets  of  ice.  'I'hey  resemble 
small  frozen  .Alpine  lakes,  and  their  surface  is  so  glassy  bright 
that  it  reflects  every  dimple  of  the  sky  and  every  angle  of 
the  mountain  crests.  In  certain  seasons  these  ice-sheets  do 
not  entirely  melt  awa)’  during  the  course  of  the  summer. 

I'he  largest  I saw  was  nearly  two  miles  long  and  more  than 
half  a mile  broad.  W’e  rode  half  way  across  it  in  order  to 
examine  its  thickness.  The  lateral  strain  upon  the  ice,  and 
the  jiressure  of  the  water  from  beneath,  give  rise  to  long 
narrow  ridges,  which  are  sometimes  thrust  uj)  to  the  height 
of  several  feet,  and  are  cleft  by  fissures  going  right  through 
them  from  top  to  bottom.  With  the  axes  and  iron  bar  we 
cut  a transverse  section  through  one  of  these  ridges,  and 
found  it  was  merely  a crust  about  eleven  inches  thick.  Be- 
low it  was  a hollow  arch,  9.1  inches  in  height;  and  then 
came  the  water,  three  feet  deep,  going  down  to  the  sandy 
floor  of  the  valley.  I'he  water  was  clear  as  crystal  and  of  a 
light-green  color;  the  thermometer  gave  its  temperature  as 
31.6^  F'ahr.  (-0.2°  C.).  Looking  down  through  the  open  sec- 
tion we  made,  I perceived  that  the  still,  transparent  water 
was  arched  over  in  both  directions  by  a long  tunnel,  and  that 
the  under  surface  of  the  ice-arch  was  decorated  with  frost- 
work, crystal  pendants,  and  stalactites,  all  shimmering  with 
the  loveliest  hues  of  blue  and  green. 

There  were  three  of  these  ice-lakes.  On  the  edge  of  the 
smallest  of  the  three,  close  beside  the  spot  where  we  pitched 
our  camp  for  the  night,  were  two  typical  ice  - volcanoes. 
Two  springs  gush  out  of  the  level  ground.  Late  in  the 
autumn,  when  the  temperature  permanently  falls,  the  water 
which  wells  from  them  freezes.  Meanwhile  the  springs  con- 
tinue to  bubble  up  all  the  while  the  water  continues  to 
freeze.  In  this  way  two  cones  of  ice  are  formed.  One  was 
i6.t  feet  high,  and  had  a circumference  of  225  feet;  the  other 
measured  26^  feet  and  676  feet  in  height  and  circumference 
respectively. 


THROUGH  ASIA 


1 66 

Four  deep  fissures  radiated  from  the  crater  of  the  smaller 
volcano,  which  was  about  fifty -five  y^ards  distant  from  the 
other.  At  the  time  of  our  visit  they  were  all  half  filled  with 
ice.  The  cone  was  built  up  of  an  innumerable  number  of 
thin  layers  of  light-green  ice,  each  layer  representing  a sepa- 
rate freezing.  The  mouth  of  the  crater  was  closed  by  white 
ice,  full  of  air -bubbles;  but  there  was  not  at  that  time  the 
least  sign  of  water  oozing  out.  It  was  an  “ extinct”  volcano. 

The  larger  volcano  consisted  of  a double  cone,  one  super- 
imposed upon  the  other.  The  bottom  one,  which  was  built 
up  entirely  of  white  ice,  was  low  and  flat,  its  sides  inclining 
at  an  angle  of  not  more  than  five  degrees.  The  upper  cone, 
which  was  a dome  of  pure,  transparent  ice,  rising  at  an  an- 
gle of  30  degrees,  and  measuring  70  feet  in  diameter,  was 
seamed  throughout  by  a net-work  of  intersecting  fissures, 
some  concentric,  others  radiating  from  the  centre  outward. 
Here  again  the  mouth  of  the  crater  was  frozen  over,  compel- 
ling the  water  to  seek  a new  outlet  through  a side-fissure  or 
“ parasite  ” volcano.  Although  the  water  trickled  out  at  a 
lively  rate,  it  gradually  froze  before  reaching  the  ice-lake,  and 
so  became  set  into  a sort  of  “ ice- flow.”  Its  temperature 
was  31.5°  Fahr.  ( — 0.3°  C.). 

In  the  small  ice  - lakes  it  begins  to  freeze  in  the  very  be- 
(jinnino;  of  November,  and  the  last  of  the  ice  does  not  thaw 
and  get  down  to  Lake  Kara-kul  before  the  middle  of  June. 
In  one  of  them  it  never  does  melt  entirely  away,  being  fa- 
vored by  a shady,  sheltered  position ; so  that  when  the  new 
ice  begins  to  form  in  the  end  of  September  some  of  the  old 
ice  is  still  left. 

We  were  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  glacial  landscapes  ; 
only,  unfortunately,  mists  and  snow-storms  prevented  me  from 
taking  ])hotographs  of  them.  Looking  towards  the  west, 
along  the  longer  axis  of  the  ice  - lake,  it  was  easy  to  imagine 
we  were  gazing  down  a narrow  fjord  or  sea-gulf;  the  horizon 
was  wreathed  in  mist  and  seemed  to  lie  at  an  immense  dis- 
tance away.  To  right  and  left  were  mountain-chains;  but  it 
was  only  the  slopes  nearest  to  us  which  emerged  out  of  the 
haze. 


LAKH  KARA-KUL 


167 

On  March  15th  we  rode  all  clay  lon^  up  the  valley  of  Mus- 
kol,  traversinsf  it  ris[ht  through  from  one  end  to  the  other. 
.At  its  upper  extremity  to  which  the  ascent  had  been  very 
gradual,  we  halted  for  the  night,  close  to  the  northern  en- 


A REST  ox  THE  PASS  OF  AK-BAITAL 

trance  of  the  pass  of  .Ak-baital.  The  next  day  brought  us  a 
hard  climb  of  ten  hours’  duration  right  over  the  pass,  which 
rises  to  the  pretty  respectable  altitude  of  1 5,360  feet.  .A  sharp 
snow-storm,  waxing  for  a time  into  a hurricane,  gave  us  a 
chilling  welcome  in  the  pass.  The  ascent  was  tough  work 
for  the  horses,  chiefly  in  consequence  of  the  extreme  rarefi- 
cation  of  the  air.  They  had  to  exert  themselves  to  the  utter- 
most, and  frequently  stopped  to  gasp  for  breath  ; and  despite 
our  utmost  care  often  fell.  The  pass  consisted  of  two  dis- 
tinct ridges,  separated  by  a stretch  of  almost  level  ground, 
which  took  us  a orood  half  - hour  to  ride  over.  It  was  cov- 

O 

ered  with  snow  to  the  depth  of  12  to  16  inches.  On  the 
summit  of  the  pass  we  rested  a short  while,  although  there 
was  a keen  sou’wester  cutting  through  it.  The  temperature 


THROUGH  ASIA 


1 68 

there  was  12.2°  Fahr.  (— 11°  C.),  and  water  boiled  at  184.3° 
Fahr.  (84.6°  C.). 

The  caravan  started  down  the  eastern  side  of  the  pas.s, 
which  was  at  first  extremely  steep,  in  a thick  mist.  But,  the 
steep  upper  slope  passed,  the  country  fell  away  at  an  easy 
gradient  all  the  way  to  Kornei  - tarti,  our  next  camping- 
ground.  In  the  Ak-baital  pass  another  of  our  overworked 
horses  fell  dead.  One  of  the  Kirghiz  bought  the  skin  from 
Islam  Bai,  the  leader  of  the  caravan,  for  two  roubles  (4.V). 

Kornei -tarti,  meaning  “the  Trumpet  Blast,”  is  a narrow 
glen,  half  choked  with  detritus,  partly  products  of  denuda- 
tion, partly  large  stones  and  rocks,  through  which  meandered 
a little  brook;  though  at  the  time  of  my  journey  this  last  was 
covered  with  a hard  crust  of  ice.  The  bottom  of  the  or]en 

o 

was  one  unbroken  expanse  of  snow;  but  on  the  mountain- 
sides there  was  little,  except  in  the  declivities  which  faced 
north.  Of  vegetation  there  was  n«t  a trace.  We  went  on 
steadily  steering  for  the  southeast  and  east  - southeast,  the 
country  retaining  the  same  characteristics  as  before.  At 
Ak-gur  (the  White  Grave),  where  a conspicuous  spur  jutted 
out  into  the  glen,  we  were  met  by  Kul  Mametieff,  a Tatar, 
whom  the  commandant  of  B^ort  Pamir  had  sent  to  act  as  my 
interpreter.  He  was  dressed  in  full  uniform,  and  wore  half 
a dozen  medals  on  his  breast,  and  brought  with  him  a letter 


KOKNF.l-I  ARTI — RREAKING  Ul>  CAMP 


LAKK  KARA-KDL 


169 


eloquent  of  friendly  greetings  from  his  master.  We  con- 
tinued to  ride  on  till  we  came  to  'I'ogolak  - matik  (Round 
Caldron  Vkdley),  or  the  junction  of  the  valley  of  Rang-kul 
with  that  of  Ak-baital. 

On  the  1 8th  we  accomplished  the  last  stage  of  this  portion 
of  our  long  journey — namely,  the  lower  extremity  of  the  valley 
of  Ak-baital,  and  the  part  of  the  valley  of  the  Murghab  which 
we  had  to  traverse  to  get  to  the  Russian  outpost  on  the  Pa- 
mirs. The  first  thing  we  noticed,  upon  catching  sight  of  the 
fort  at  a distance,  was  the  Russian  flag  flying  from  its  north- 
west corner,  proclaiming  the  sovereignty  of  the  C/.ar  over  the 
“ Roof  of  the  W'orld.”  When  we  drew  nearer,  we  saw  that 
the  ramparts  were  beset  with  soldiers  and  Cossacks  to  the 
number  of  160,  drawn  up  in  line.  They  gave  us  a cheer  of 
welcome:  and  at  the  main  entrance  I met  with  a hearty  re- 
ception from  the  commandant.  Captain  Saitseff,  and  his  offi- 
cers, six  of  them  in  all.  They  conducted  me  to  the  room  in 
their  own  quarters  which  had  been  ready  for  me  a whole 
week.  A yurt  was  set  apart  for  the  use  of  my  men. 

As  soon  as  I got  my  baggage  stowed  away,  1 went  and 
had  a good  bath,  and  then  joined  the  officers  at  mess.  It 
was  a meal  not  soon  to  be  forgotten.  I delivered  the  greet- 
ings I had  brought  from  Margelan.  I had  a thousand  and 
one  questions  to  answer  about  my  adventurous  ride  across 
the  Pamirs  in  the  middle  of  winter.  Then,  when  the  Cos- 
sack attendants  served  round  the  fiery  wine  of  Turkestan, 
the  commandant  rose,  and  in  a neat  speech  proposed  the 
health  of  Oscar,  King  of  Sweden  and  Norway.  If  ever  a 
toast  was  responded  to  with  real  sincerity  and  gratitude,  it 
was  when  I stood  up  to  return  thanks  for  the  honor  done 
to  my  king.  If  ever  there  was  a place  where  joy  reigned 
supreme,  it  was  surely  here  on  the  “ Roof  of  the  World,” 
11,850  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  far  removed  from  the 
bustle  and  noise  of  the  busy  world,  in  the  very  middle  of 
Asia  — a region  where  our  nearest  neighbors  were  the  wild 
sheep  of  the  mountain  crags,  the  wolves  which  prowl  over 
the  snowy  wastes,  the  imperial  eagle  which  soars  through 
the  endless  spaces  of  the  sky. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


POPULATION  OF  THE  RUSSIAN  PAMIRS 

The  greater  part  of  our  route  across  the  Pamirs  led,  as 
we  have  seen,  through  uninhabited  regions.  The  Russian 
districts  of  the  Pamirs  had  in  October,  1893,  ^ population 
of  not  more  than  1232  persons.  But  the  Alai'  valley  and  the 
valley  of  Sarik-kol  possessed,  relatively  speaking,  a denser 
population.  Administratively  the  Alai'  valley  is  divided  into 
two  portions,  the  western  half  belonging  to  the  uyasd  (dis- 
trict) of  Margelan,  the  eastern  half  to  the  uyasd  of  Osh.  The 
information  which  I derived  from  the  Kirghiz  chiefs  who 
dwell  in  those  regions  is  not  perhaps  absolutely  reliable,  but 
it  is  sufhciently  near  the  truth  to  deserve  consideration. 

Scattered  through  the  Alai  valley  there  were,  they  told  me, 
fifteen  kishlaks  or  winter  settlements,  aggregating  a total  of 
270  yurts  (households  or  families),  who  in  part  remained  there 
the  whole  year  through,  in  part  migrated  to  the  higher  regions 
during  the  summer.  The  number  of  tents  in  the  larger  auls 
was  estimated  as  follows:  in  Daraut-kurgan,  20;  Kok-su,  120; 
Kizil-unkur,  50;  Altyn-darah,  5;  Tuz-darah,  45;  Kashka-su, 
20;  and  Jipptik  10.  Ethnologically  the  inhabitants  of  these 
settlements  were  said  to  fall  into  the  following  groups:  Teit- 
Kirghiz  dwelt  at  Daraut-kurgan,  Altyn-darah,  and  Tuz-darah; 
at  Kashka-su,  Teit  and  Chal-teit;  at  Jijjptik,  Choy-Kirghiz ; 
at  Kok-su,  Naiman  Kirghiz;  in  Kara-teghin,  Kij)chaks,  Nai- 
man  Kirghiz,  and  Kara-teit.  The  greater  j)ortion  of  these 
people  migrate  every  summer  to  the  neighborhood  of  Lake 
Rang-kul,  where,  after  the  snows  have  disaj)}jeared,  the 
grassy  stepjjcs  furnish  good  pasturage  for  their  sheep.  \ 
portion  of  them  also  winter,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  Ala'i 
valley.  There  too,  in  the  end  of  May  or  beginning  of  June. 


POPULATION  OF  RUSSIAN  PAMIRS  171 


the  prosperous  Kirghiz  of  Fergana  bring  their  flocks  to 
graze  on  the  plentiful  grass  which  springs  up  along  the 
borders  of  the  Kizil-su.  They  i)itch  their  ycy/atts  or  sum- 
mer camps  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  amuse  them- 


THE  KIRGHIZ  BEG  OF  THE  AUI.  OF  MURGHAB 

selves  with  their  baigas  or  games  on  horseback,  feast,  marry 
— in  a word,  make  summer  holiday.  The  greater  portion 
stay  only  a couple  of  months,  none  longer  than  three  months. 
The  rest  of  the  year  they  spend  in  their  kishlaks  or  winter- 


172 


THROUGH  ASIA 


quarters  in  Fergana.  During  the  summer  there  are  about 
150  yurts  at  Kashka-su. 

The  Kirghiz  who  go  up  to  the  Pamirs  from  Osh  and 
Andijan  travel  by  way  of  the  Talldik  and  Jipptik  passes; 
those  who  belong  to  Margelan  and  Kokand  prefer  the  pass 
of  Tenghiz-bai.  This  last  is  also  the  route  which  nowadays 
is  chosen  by  the  large  number  of  Tajiks  who  travel  on  foot 
every  summer  to  Fergana  in  search  of  work.  The  Alai’ 
valley  is  also  an  imjjortant  link  in  the  chain  of  communi- 
cation which  connects  East  Turkestan  with  Kara-teghin  and 
Bokhara,  and  so  with  the  pilgrim  road  to  Mecca  and  Me- 
dina; so  that  durim^  the  warmer  months  of  the  vear  manv 
a trading-caravan  and  pilgrim-train  passes  up  and  down  the 
valley. 

The  portion  of  the  Pamirs  which  belongs  to  Russia  is 
divided  between  two  volasts  (arrondissements)  embracing  in 
all  seven  eminstvos  (communes): 

1.  The  volast  of  the  Pamirs  consists  of  five  eminstvos: 
Kara-kul,  with  131  inhabitants  in  October,  1893 ; Murghab, 
with  253;  Rang-kul,  with  103;  Ak-tash,  with  239;  and  .Ali- 
chur,  with  256. 

2.  The  volast  of  Kuh-darah  includes  only  two  eminstvos — 
namely,  Sarez,  with  95  inhabitants,  and  Kuh-darah,  with  155. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  volast  of  the  Pamirs  were  almost 
ex’clusively  Teit- Kirghiz  ; of  Kuh-darah  almost  exclusively 
Tajiks.  'The  total  population,  grouped  by  sex  and  age,  em- 
braced 320  men,  369  women,  342  boys,  and  201  girls — a total 
of  I 232. 

'Phese  statistics  were  given  me  by  Captain  Saitseff.  His 
predecessor.  Captain  Kuznetsoff,  took  a census  of  the  dis- 
trict under  his  authority  in  October,  1892,  with  the  follow- 
ing result: — a total  of  1055  people — 255  men,  307  women, 
299  boys,  and  194  girls.  Captain  Saitseff’s  figures  thus 
show  an  increase  of  177  during  the  year.  But  the  increase 
was  ijartl)'  due  to  immigration.  The  Kirghiz  who  dwelt  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Chinese  and  Afghan  frontiers  were 
attracted  intcj  Russian  territory  by  the  im])roved  conditions 
of  living,  the  result  of  the  Russians’  wise  and  humane  treat- 


POPIILA  riox  OI<  RUSSIAN  PAMIRS  173 


nicnt  of  the  native  po])ulations  of  Asia.  I he  rc'>;ions  most 
frequented  durinej  tlie  winter  months  were  those  around 
Rang-kul,  Kosh-aghil,  and  .Ak-tash.  I here  were  also  several 
aids  (tent-villages)  in  the  .\lichur  Pamirs,  some  even  in  the 
Pshart  valley,  south  of  Kara-kul.  I he  little  aul  of  Murghab 
lay  a short  distance  east  of  the  fort. 

Captain  Kuznetsoff  estimated  that  the  1055  Kirghiz  occu- 
pied 227  yurts  (tents),  and  that  their  live-stock  consisted  of 
20,sSo  sheej),  1703  yaks,  3*S3  camels,  and  280  horses.  The 


T.\JTKS  I-'UOM  ROSIIAX 


Tajik  population  of  the  western  Pamirs  he  estimated  at 
35.000. 

The  eastern  slopes  of  the  Pamirs — that  is,  the  tracts  lying 
east  of  the  Sarik-kol  range — belong  to  China.  With  regard 
to  them,  there  exist  of  course  no  reliable  statistics.  The  beg 
of  Su-bashi  (south  of  Little  Kara-kul)  told  me  that  in  the 
environs  of  that  lake  there  were  some  300  Teit- Kirghiz 
dwelling  in  about  60  yurts.  He  himself  was  chief  of  286 
yurts,  most  of  which,  however,  lay  on  the  east  of  the  great 
mountain  of  Mus-ta2;h-ata.  All  the  Kirirhiz  of  the  Pamirs, 

O O 


I 


i?4 


THROUGH  ASIA 


irrespective  of  the  tribe  to  which  they  belong,  are  called  by 
their  kinsmen  in  Fergana  by  the  one  common  appellation  of 
Sarik-kolis,  or  people  of  Sarik-kol. 

The  statistics  which  I have  just  given  demonstrate  how 
thinly  the  Pamirs  are  inhabited.  Nor  could  anything  differ- 
ent be  expected,  considering  the  characteristics  of  the  region — 
the  intense  cold,  the  frequency  and  fury  of  the  snow-storms, 
the  few  pasture  - grounds  and  their  scanty  supplies  of  grass. 
Of  the  two  self-contained  internal  drainage-basins,  Kara-kul 
and  Rang-kul,  the  latter  only  has  a settled  Kirghiz  population. 
The  Kara-kul  Kirghiz  are  true  nomads.  At  the  period  of  my 
visit  to  the  lake  their  tents  were  pitched  some  little  distance 
away  on  the  south  and  southwest ; its  shores  were  entirely 
unoccupied.  The  grazing  - grounds  in  the  vicinity  are  fre- 
quented during  the  spring,  summer,  and  autumn.  But  there 
is  no  grass  during  the  winter;  it  is  cropped  too  close  by  the 
sheep  in  the  latter  part  of  the  autumn.  Sometimes  the  Kir- 
ghiz from  Rang-kul  migrate  to  the  steppes  round  Kara-kul 
for  the  summer  grazing. 


I'lll':  AUTHOR  AM)  TllR  RUSSIAN  Ol-T-TCKRS  AT  FORT  I’A.MIR 


CHAPTER  XIV 


(iEOGRAlMIlCAL  SUMMARY 


Baron  \’on  Ricmtiiofkn  divides  the  whole  of  the  Asiatic 
continent  into  three  distinct  regions  of  very  unequal  extent — 
the  Central,  in  which  the  rivers  drain  into  inland  lakes;  the 
Peripheral  or  border  lands,  in  which  the  streams  make  their 
wav  down  to  the  seas  which  wash  the  coasts  of  the  continent; 
and  the  Transition  or  Intermediate  tracts,  which  partake  of 
the  characteristics  of  the  other  two.  The  subdivision  also 
holds  good  when  applied  to  the  Pamirs.  Here,  too,  there  are 
three  similar  geographical  districts — a central  district  draining 
into  lakes  Kara-kul  and  Rang-kul,  a peripheral  draining  to  the 
Amu-daria  (and  so  into  Lake  .Vral)  and  to  the  Tarim  (which 
empties  into  the  lake  Lop-nor). 

The  most  remarkable  feature  in  the  region  of  internal 
drainage  is  the  process  of  levelling-up  which  goes  on  unceas- 
ingly. Ihe  detritus  which  results  from  the  disintegrating 
action  of  the  weather,  and  the  more  or  less  mechanical  agency 
of  wind  and  water  and  gravitv,  is  constantlv  being  carried 
down  from  the  mountains  all  round  its  borders  towards  the 
lower  parts  of  its  depressions,  and  being  deposited  there.  In 
this  way  the  natural  inequalities  in  the  configuration  of  the 
ground  are  being  gradually  smoothed  away.  Although, 
broadly  speaking,  this  process  is  going  on  in  the  tracts 
around  Lake  Kara-kul,  it  is  also  true  that  there  are  very 
great  differences  in  the  relative  altitudes  in  that  same  quarter. 
For  instance,  the  lake  lies  at  an  elevation  of  13,000  feet  above 
sea-level.  It  has  been  sounded  to  a depth  of  756  feet — a 
remarkable  depth,  considering  that  Kara-kul  is  a saline  lake 
in  the  centre  of  Asia.  And  near  its  western  margin  the 
mountains  tower  up  to  an  altitude  of  4000  feet  above  the  sur- 


176 


THROUGH  ASIA 


face  of  the  lake.  Here  there  is  an  enormous  field  for  the 
process  of  levelling-up  to  work  in.  But  the  soundings  which 
I took  in  the  lake  proved  that  it  is  also  operative  there,  for 
the  bottom  was  covered  with  fine  mud. 

The  mountain  - chains  which  encircle  the  depressions  of 
Kara-kul  and  Rang-kul  attain  to  relatively  great  heights,  and 
the  passes  which  cross  them  are  seldom  much  lower  than  the 
crests.  The  pass  of  Kalta-davan,  for  instance,  has  the  same 
absolute  altitude  as  Mont  Blanc — namely,  15,780  feet;  the  pass 
of  Kizil-art  is  14,015  feet;  of  Ak-baital,  15,360  feet;  and  Chug- 
gatai,  15,500  feet.  The  lake  of  Rang-kul,  which  lies  12,240 
feet  above  sea-level,  marks  the  lowest  point  of  the  depression. 
The  area  which  falls  between  the  passes  just  named  amounts 
to  about  2100  square  miles,  an  area  which  is  approximately 
equal  to  that  of  the  basin  of  Issyk-kul. 

The  traveller  who  journeys  from  Fergana  to  East  Turkes- 
tan cannot  help  observing  that  the  character  of  the  countr)’ 
which  stretches  from  Kizil-art  on  the  north  to  Ak-baital  on 
the  south,  and  is  bordered  by  the  Chuggatai  range  on  the 
east,  is  totally  different  from  the  tracts  which  immediately 
surround  it.  It  is  not  a highland  region  ; but  a high-level 
plain,  bounded  on  the  north  and  south  by  latitudinal  chains, 
and  on  the  east  by  a meridional  chain.  Surveying  the  region 
from  the  summit  of  the  Kizil-art  pass,  I was  struck  by  the 
low  angle  of  inclination  and  the  soft,  rounded  forms  of  the 
mountain-slopes;  and  noticed  that  the  hills  which  diversified 
it  were  piled  up,  as  it  were,  on  the  level  ground,  instead  of 
striking  off  as  sharjily  defined  ranges  in  definite  directions. 
The  entire  region  bears  witness  to  the  enormous  power  of  the 
forces  of  denudation  exercised  unceasingly  over  a vast  period 
of  time.  Debris  and  fragments  of  rock,  from  the  size  of  peb- 
bles to  the  largest  bowlders,  strew  the  ground  in  every  direc- 
tion. The  lower  Hanks  of  the  mountains  are  buried  under 
detritus  and  mounds  of  disintegrated  materials.  On  every 
hand,  in  fact,  I saw  convincing  ])roofs  of  the  destructive  power 
of  frost  and  rain  and  snow.  Hard  bare  rock  was  nowhere 
visible,  except  near  the  crests  of  the  ranges,  in  places  where 
the  wind  is  able  to  work  unchecked. 


G KOC;  R A PHI C A L S U M M A R Y 


177 


The  valleys  of  this  high-level  plain  or  plateau  are  broad 
and  almost  level.  They  rise  at  such  a gradual  inclination 
towards  the  outer  ring  of  mountains  that  they  often  seem  to 
be  perfectly  liorizontal.  Each  of  them  is  as  a rule  traversed 
by  a little  mountain-stream,  which  is  fed  partly  by  natural 


A TRAXSITIOXAL  LAXDSCAPE  OX  THE  PA^^RS — OXE  OF  OUR  CAMPS 

springs,  partly  by  the  melting  snows,  and  which  empties  it- 
self into  one  of  the  two  lakes,  Kara-kul  or  Rang-kul.  The 
scenery  is  frequently  grand,  but  always  depressingly  monot- 
onous, more  especially  in  winter.  In  that  season  there  is  not 
a living  creature  to  give  animation  to  the  desolate  wilderness. 
A powerful  field-glass  will  sometimes  enable  you  to  see  a dis- 
tant flock  of  arkhari  (wild  sheep)  or  kiyick  (goats).  Of  hu- 
man beings  or  human  dwellings  there  is  not  a glimpse.  Past- 
ures are  few,  and  the  grass  scanty.  In  a word,  the  landscape, 
with  its  barren,  naked  surfaces,  puts  you  in  mind  of  a typical 
lunar  landscape. 

Unlike  similar  tracts  of  Asia  which  possess  no  drainage 
1 2 


178 


THROUGH  ASIA 


outlet,  the  depression  of  Kara-kul  does  not  suffer  from  ac- 
cumulations of  sand.  The  explanation  of  this,  no  doubt,  is 
that  the  finer  products  of  denudation  are  swept  up  b_v  the 
constant  violent  wind-storms  which  prev^ail  in  that  region,  and 
are  carried  away  to  be  deposited  in  parts  of  the  continent 
where  the  atmospheric  conditions  are  permanently  calmer. 
Sand-storms  and  dust-storms  are  indeed  by  no  means  a rare 
visitation  of  the  Pamir  plateau.  It  is  very  probably  to  them 
that  the  so-called  “yellow  snow”  owes  its  origin;  for  an  e.x- 
amination  of  the  snow-drifts  to  which  that  name  is  oriven  re- 

o 

veals  the  presence  of  extremely  fine  particles  of  yellowish  soil. 

The  most  powerful  agencies  of  disintegration  in  this  part 
of  the  world  are  the  winds  and  the  enormous  and  sudden  va- 
riations of  the  temperature.  I saw  striking  evidences  of  their 
power  on  the  little  island  in  Lake  Kara-kul,  in  huge  blocks 
of  syenite  and  clay-slate  ground,  scooped  out,  polished  into 
the  most  fantastic  shapes.  ‘The  variations  of  temperature 
are  enormous,  not  only  in  winter,  but  also  in  summer.  At 
P'ort  Pamir,  at  seven  o’clock  in  the  morning  of  January  iith, 
1894,  the  thermometer  recorded  a temperature  of  —36°  F'ahr. 
( — 37.8°  C.) ; one  hour  after  noon  it  was  53.6“  Fahr.  (12°  C.) 
in  the  sun — a difference  of  nearly  90°  Fahr.  (50°  C.)  in  the 
course  of  only  six  hours!  The  amount  of  radiation  is  almost 
inconceivable.  At  a time  when  the  temperature  of  the  air 
was  just  at  the  freezing-point,  the  black  bulb  insolation  ther- 
mometer actually  registered  133'’  to  136°  F'ahr.  (56°  to  58°  C.). 
These  stupendous  forces  labor  on  unrestingly  century  after 
century,  wearing  down  the  solid  structure  of  the  continent — 
in  this  an  imperfect  image  or  analogue  of  the  earth  itself, 
which  is  but  the  last  surviving  wreck  of  substances  which 
have  been  in  ])rocess  of  formation  and  re-formation  through 
countless  mons  of  time. 

This  region  of  exclusively  internal  drainage  is  girdled  round 
by  a zone  of  what  Von  Richthofen  calls  Transitional  areas. 
On  the  north  it  is  bounded  by  the  Alai  Mountains,  on  the 
east  by  the  chain  of  Sarik-kol,  on  the  south  by  the  Hindu- 
kush,  while  its  western  limit  is  marked  by  the  line  of  73° 
Fk  long.  According  to  Von  Richthofen,  the  definitive  char- 


( ; 1 <:  ( H ; R A p n I c A L summary 


179 


actcristic  of  a refrion  belon<2fin2T  to  the  'Fransitional  zone  is 

o o o 

the  fact  that  the  erosive  jiower  of  tlie  water,  and  the  result- 
ant action  of  the  violent  alternations  of  temperature,  have  in 
more  recent  times  broken  a new  path  for  the  drainage  streams, 
so  that  instead  of  seeking  an  interior,  landlocked  basin,  they 
are  now  able  to  find  an  outlet  to  the  rivers  which  eventually 
dischariie  into  the  sea;  or,  vice  versa,  thev  cease  to  send  their 
waters  oceanward,  but  turn  them  instead  towards  an  interior 
basin  which  makes  no  contribution  to  the  seas  around  the 
continent.  A 'I'ransitional  region  is  therefore  one  which  re- 
tains the  typical  features  of  the  region  to  which  originally  it 
definitively  belonged. 

d'he  Transitional  zones  of  the  Pamirs  bear  a very  close 
general  resemblance  to  the  self-contained  drainage-basin  of 
the  Kara-kul.  lAosion  is  not  yet  sufficiently  far  advanced  to 
enable  the  streams  to  carry  off  all  the  [products  of  disintegra- 
tion which  cumber  the  valleys,  the  contours  are  soft  and 
rounded,  the  valleys  themselves  broad  and  shallow.  The 
tendency  of  the  active  disintegrating  forces  operative  in  the 
Pamirs  is  to  convert  it  into  a Peripheral  region.  I'or  instance, 
in  the  southwest  the  little  brook  of  Kok-uv-bel,  a feeder  of 
the  Murghab,  which  in  its  turn  goes  to  augment  Lake  Aral, 
has  e.xtended  its  remotest  arteries  to  within  about  si.x  miles  of 
the  brook  of  Mus-kol,  which  discharges  into  Lake  Kara-kul. 
The  springs  which  give  origin  to  the  Kok-uy-bel  lie  only  a 
trifle  higher  than  the  level  of  the  lake;  so  that,  geologically 
speaking,  the  Kok-uy-bel  may  perhaps  to-morrow  be  convert- 
ed into  an  outlet  from  the  lake,  through  which  its  waters 
would  gradually  flow  away  till  it  became  empty.  Simulta- 
neously with  this  change,  the  Kara-kul  depression  would  be- 
gin to  lose  the  characteristic  features  of  an  independent  area 
of  internal  drainage,  and  would  gradually  assume  those  of  a 
Peripheral  region. 

A typical  Peripheral  region  is  one  which  through  the 
agency  of  erosion  has  lost  its  former  character  of  a high-level 
plain  or  plateau,  and  assumed  the  more  definitely  marked  as- 
pect of  a region  in  which  Nature’s  fingers  have  carved  and 
moulded  with  powerful  effect.  Its  outward  contours  are  very 


i8o 


THROUGH  ASIA 


much  steeper  and  wilder,  the  relative  altitudes  greater;  the 
plateau  is  cleft  almost  to  its  foundations  by  gigantic  trenches 
or  fissures  radiating  outward  ; the  valleys  or  glens  which  cut 
into  it  are  deep  and  narrow,  revealing  the  internal  structure 
of  the  mountains  ; while  along  their  bottoms  the  torrents  foam 
and  race  through  confined,  gorge  - like  channels,  over  huge 
bowlders  of  stone  which  have  crashed  down  from  the  heis^hts 
above. 

On  the  west  side  of  the  plateau  the  turbulent  head-streams 
of  the  Amu-daria — namely,  the  Murghab,  Ghunt,  and  Panj — 
in  many  places  force  their  way  between  vertical  walls  of  rock, as 
though  they  were  traversing  a tunnel  through  the  mountains. 
Such  places  are  absolutely  impassable  except  to  the  native  in- 
habitants of  those  regions — namely,  the  clever  Tajiks.  There 
are  places  above  certain  of  the  streams  where  these  people 
have  driven  wooden  pegs  into  the  sides  of  the  perpendicular 
crevices,  and  with  the  sureness  and  nimbleness  of  apes  clam- 
ber up  from  peg  to  peg,  bearing  heavy  burdens  lashed  upon 
their  backs.  It  is  surprising  what  skill  they  show  in  availing 
themselves  of  every  jutting  piece  of  rock,  every  ledge  and 
cornice,  every  crack  and  chink  in  the  precipitous  cliff-wall. 

The  border  re2;ions  of  the  Pamirs  are  distinguished  for  the 
striking  geographical  homologies  they  present.  On  the  north 
the  river  Kizil-su  flows  between  the  two  parallel  mountain- 
chains  of  the  Alai  and  the  Trans-Alai.  On  the  east  the  Sarik- 
kol  valley,  between  the  Mus-tagh  and  Sarik  - kol  ranges,  is 
traversed  by  the  Ghez-daria  and  the  Yarkand-daria.  On  the 
south  the  Wakhan  is  hemmed  in  by  the  Wakhan  chain  and 
the  Hindu-kush,  which  both  run  in  the  same  direction.  The 
Panj  too  on  the  west  likewise  flows  between  jiarallel  ranges 
of  mountains,  though  they  are  of  a less  imposing  altitude. 
The  valleys  through  which  these  several  streams  descend  from 
the  Pamirs  to  the  lower  regions  exhibit  features  of  a Transi- 
tional character.  On  the  one  hand,  while  they  resemble  the 
deeply  trenched  valleys  on  the  outer  borders  of  the  plateau, 
with  their  large  rivers  in  full  Hood  all  the  year  round,  on  the 
other  hand  they  possess  many  features  in  common  with  the 
level  plains  of  the  central  areas  of  depression.  Although 


(;eo(;rapiiical  summary 


I s 1 

strictly  speaking,  according  to  Von  Richthofen’s  definition, 
the  (Ihez-daria  and  Yarkand-daria  belong  to  the  central  area 
of  depression,  the  districts  through  which  they  flow,  and  which 
their  muddy  streams  to  some  extent  help  to  mould  and  level 
up,  exhibit  the  characteristics  of  a Peripheral  zone.  The 
draina<je-basin  of  the  (ihez-daria  embraces  four  lakes,  the  two 
largest  beimr  Bulun-kul  and  Little  Kara-kul.  Phe  (ihez-daria, 
as  well  as  the  Kara-su,  an  affluent  of  the  Yarkand-daria,  are 
fed  i)rincij)ally  by  the  snows  and  glaciers  of  Mus-tagh-ata ; so 
that  in  spring  and  summer  their  currents  swell  to  streams  of 
very  respectable  dimensions.  On  April  2Sth  the  Cihez-daria 
had  a volume  of  850  cubic  feet  in  the  second,  and  we  had 
some  difficulty  in  cn)ssing  it.  Later  on  in  the  summer  it 
cannot  be  forded  at  all.  'I'hese  two  strong  torrents  have  made 
an  irresistible  assault  ui)on  the  Mus-tagh  range;  both  have 
cut  their  way  through  it.  The  Yarkand-daria  is  the  chief 
contributary  of  the  river  Tarim  ; indeed,  it  furnishes  the  great- 
er portion  of  the  volume  of  its  waters. 

Summarizing  in  broad,  general  terms,  we  may  say  that 
the  Pamirs  may  be  grouped  in  two  sharply  contrasted  divi- 
sions— an  eastern  half,  which  is  principally  a jdateau  - land 
such  as  I have  described,  and  a western  half,  consisting  of  a 
system  of  latitudinal  mountain  - chains  disposed  parallel  to 
one  another.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  at  one  period  the 
entire  region  was  strictly  a plateau,  and  that  it  is  being  rapid- 
ly broken  down  by  the  agency  of  erosion.  Indeed,  it  is  not 
more  than  a veneration  avo  when  the  Pamirs  were  univer- 

o o 

sally  considered  to  be  a plateau  pure  and  simple.  W’e  know 
now  that  they  form  a 'gigantic  quadrilateral,  embracing  with- 
in its  confines  surface  configurations  and  types  of  scenery  of 
the  most  diverse  description. 

On  the  Pamirs,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  the  bounda- 
ries of  different  climatic  regions  are  determined  by  the 
outstanding  physical  features.  Over  the  central  areas  of 
the  revion  the  amount  of  snowfall  is  exceedinvly  small ; but 
the  cold  is  intense,  the  night  temperatures  being  below' 
freezing-point  all  the  year  round,  with  the  exception  of  a 
couple  of  weeks  in  the  middle  of  summer.  In  the  Ala'i  val- 


i82 


THROUGH  ASIA 


ley,  on  the  contrary,  the  climate  is  relatively  milder,  but  at 
the  same  time  the  snowfall  is  enormous.  Even  in  the  valley 
of  Sarik-kol  the  quantity  of  snow  which  falls  every  year  is  by 
no  means  inconsiderable.  It  follows  therefore,  as  a direct 
consequence  of  the  unequal  distribution  of  the  snowfall,  that 
the  rivers  of  the  Pamirs  carry  down  very  unequal  quantities 
of  the  drainage  - water.  For  instance,  at  the  time  of  my 
journey  the  Kizil-su  had  a volume  nearly  four  times  as  great 
as  the  Murghab  (or  Ak-su),  the  chief  head -stream  of  the 
Amu  - daria ; besides,  the  measurement  of  ‘ the  latter  was 
taken  a month  later  than  the  measurement  of  the  former. 
The  volume  of  the  Kizil-su  was  950  cubic  feet  in  the  second ; 
the  volume  of  the  Murghab  only  250  cubic  feet. 

The  ethnological  and  linguistic  divisions  of  the  Pamirs 
coincide  pretty  accurately  with  the  physical  divisions.  The 
population  of  the  plateau  proper  are  almost  entirely  Kirghiz, 
relatively  few  in  number.  Farther  west,  the  Peripheral  dis- 
tricts of  Darvaz,  Roshan,  and  Shugnan  are  inhabited  almost 
e.xclusively  by  Tajiks,  and  the  population  there  is  relatively 
much  denser.  Nor  is  this  a merely  accidental  difference. 
The  Kirg;hiz  are  nomads.  Their  wealth  consists  of  flocks 
of  sheep,  yaks,  camels.  As  the  seasons  change,  they  move 
from  one  pasture-ground  to  another.  Hence  they  natu'rally 
prefer  the  level  stretches  of  the  plateau  to  the  deep,  narrow 
glens  and  steep  mountain-sides  of  the  Peripheral  regions. 
The  Tajiks,  on  the  other  hand,  are  a settled  population, 
their  conditions  of  life  being  totally  different  from  those 
under  which  the  nomad  Kirghiz  live. 

The  separate  linguistic  areas  are  almost  necessarily  coin- 
cident with  the  ethnological  areas.  The  Kirghiz  give  their 
own  Turki  names  to  the  geographical  features  with  which 
they  arc  brought  into  relation.  The  Tajiks  call  the  same 
objects  by  names  borrowed  from  their  language,  which  is 
Persian.  By  way  of  illustration  I may  mention  that  nearly 
all  the  rivers  which  flow  towards  the  west  are  generally 
known  by  their  Kirghiz  names  in  the  upper  part  of  their 
course,  and  by  their  Persian  (Tajik)  names  in  their  lower 
course.  Thus  we  have  the  Ak-su  known  lower  down  as  the 


G HOG R A P H IC A L S U M M A R Y 


I ‘^3 

Murghab,  the  (iurunicli  known  as  the  Ghunt.  In  one  dis- 
trict there  are  two  small  streams  flowing  together  side  by 
side.  One  has  a Kirghiz  (Turki)  name — Kok-uy-bel,  be- 
cause the  glen  through  which  it  Hows  is  frequented  by 
Kirghiz.  'I'he  other  bears  the  Persian  name  of  Kuh-darah, 
because  there  is  a Tajik  village  close  beside  the  entrance  to 
its  valley. 


I 


CHAPTER  XV 


FORT  PAMIR 

From  this  brief  geographical  summary  I pass  to  the  little 
Russian  outpost  of  Fort  Pamir,  and  a brief  account  of  the 
very  pleasant  time  I spent  there  between  March  19th  and 
April  7th,  1894. 

Fort  Pamir,  situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Murghab, 
at  an  altitude  of  1 1,800  feet  above  sea-level,  was  built  as  a 
check  upon  Chinese  and  Afghan  aggressions  upon  the  terri- 
tories of  the  former  Khans  of  Kokand.  Although  the  Rus- 
sians conquered  the  khanate  in  1875  and  1876,  for  some 
time  they  bestowed  but  little  thought  upon  the  region  of  the 
Pamirs.  It  was  only  thinly  populated  and  very  difficult  of 
access,  and  possessed  nothing  to  invite  attention.  General 
Skobeleff,  for  as  far-sighted  as  he  was,  never  seems  to  have 
given  it  a thought.  But  when  the  neighboring  powers  be- 
gan to  stretch  out  their  hands  towards  it,  Russia  awoke  to 
the  necessity  for  energetic  action.  Colonel  Yonnoff’s  fa- 
mous expedition  was  the  first  result  of  the  change  of  policy  on 
the  part  of  the  St.  Petersburg  authorities.  It  was  an  expe- 
dition which  opened  up  political  questions  of  a grave  and 
delicate  character;  which,  however,  were  satisfactorily  termi- 
nated by  the  labors  of  the  Anglo-Russian  Boundary  Commis- 
sion in  the  summer  of  1895. 

As  regards  P'ort  Pamir,  I may  mention  that  it  was  built 
by  the  men  of  the  fourth  battalion  of  the  Russian  army  of 
Turkestan  in  the  year  1893,  between  July  2d  (O.S.)  and  Oc- 
tober 30th.  The  outer  wall,  which  forms  an  oblong,  was 
constructed  of  sods  and  bags  of  sand,  and  encloses  a fair- 
sized court -yard,  around  which  are  ranged  the  officers’ 
quarters,  and  a long  earthen  structure,  covered  in  with 


XOkrilKRX  FACE  OF  F(JRT  I’AMIR 


1 


FORT  PAMIR 


1S7 

beams,  and  containing  barracks,  kitchens,  hospital,  bath- 
rooms, workshops,  and  so  forth.  The  commissariat  stores 
and  ammunition  are  kej)t  in  yurts.  1 Iierc  is  also  a little 
meteorological  station,  where  observations  are  taken  three 
times  every  day.  In  the  corners  of  the  longer  side  which 
faces  the  north  are  two  platforms,  each  furnished  with  a bat- 
tery of  Ma.\im-Nordenfeldt  machine-guns.  The  fort  occu- 
pies a commanding  position  on  a terrace  of  conglomerate, 
which  overlooks,  but  at  some  distance  away,  the  right  or 
northern  bank  of  the  Murghab.  Between  the  two  extends  a 
marsh  or  morass,  out  of  which  gush  a great  number  of 
springs  of  clear  water.  I'ort  Pamir  is  a striking  testimonial 
and  proof  of  the  energy  and  spirit  of  the  officers  who  built 
it.  For  it  was  anything  but  an  easy  task  to  erect  such  a 
structure  at  that  high  altitude  and  at  such  an  immense  dis- 
tance from  the  resources  of  civilization.  Every  inch  of  tim- 
ber and  every  ounce  of  other  building  material  had  to  be 
transported  on  horses’  backs  all  the  way  from  Osh  in  Fer- 
gana, pretty  nearly  by  the  route  I have  described.  The 
months  in  which  the  work  was  done  were  unusually  stormy: 
furious  hurricanes  of  blinding:  snow,  mingled  with  fine  sand, 
being  of  frequent  occurrence.  Part  of  the  time  both  officers 
and  men  dwelt  in  Kirghiz  yurts,  which  were  again  and  again 
blown  ov^er  by  the  wind. 

Within  the  last  few  years  a new  route  has  been  opened  to 
Kashgar,  and  the  merchants  of  that  town  now  resort  to  the 
southern  Pamirs,  where  they  traffic  with  the  Kirghiz,  barter- 
ing the  wares  they  bring  with  them  for  sheep.  They  then 
drive  the  sheep  down  to  the  market-towns  of  Fergana,  where 
they  make  a good  price  of  them ; and  so  return  home  to 
Kashgar  by  way  of  the  passes  of  Terek-davan  and  Talldik, 
with  a substantial  profit  in  their  pockets. 

The  commandant  of  Fort  Pamir,  Captain  V.  N.  Saitseff, 
was  a settler  of  long  standing  in  Turkestan.  As  aide-de- 
camp  to  General  Skobeleff  he  took  part  in  the  campaign 
against  Khiva  in  1873,  and  in  that  against  Kokand  in 
1875-76.  Besides  being  commandant  of  the  fort,  he  was  also 
gov'ernor  of  the  Kirghiz  population  of  the  Pamirs. 


i88 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Of  Fort  Pamir  I have  none  but  the  happiest  recollections, 
I reached  it  at  the  end  of  a long,  toilsome  journey  through 
an  uninhabited  and  difficult  mountainous  waste,  and  was  re- 
ceived in  that  little  outlying  fragment  of  mighty  Russia  with 
open  arms,  more  like  an  old  friend  or  long-standing  acquaint- 
ance, by  a group  of  officers  who,  I have  no  hesitation  in  say- 
ing, were  as  amiable,  as  courteous,  as  generous  a set  of  men 
as  it  is  possible  to  meet  with.  And,  without  undue  self-love, 
I can  flatter  myself  that  my  arrival  formed  a not  unpleasing 
diversion  in  the  lonely  and  monotonous  life  which  the  garri- 
son of  the  fort  are  compelled  to  lead  during  the  greater  por- 
tion of  the  year.  For  all  winter  through,  ever  since  Sep- 
tember of  the  previous  year,  not  a soul  had  been  near  the 
fort  except  the  Kirghiz.  As  soon  therefore  as  the  Russian 
officers  learned,  from  the  mounted  couriers  I sent  on  in  ad- 
vance, that  I was  approaching,  they  hurried  up  to  the  battery 
platforms,  armed  with  every  field-glass  that  could  be  got  in 
the  fort,  and  swept  the  horizon  northward  until  my  caravan 
came  into  sight.  And  when  I rode  in  through  the  gate,  1 
was  received  with  the  warmest  of  welcomes  by  every  man 
of  the  garrison. 

Fort  Pamir  often  reminded  me  of  a ship  at  sea.  Phe 
outer  walls  might  be  likened  to  the  bulwarks;  the  wide, 
open,  sweeping  valley  of  the  Murghab  to  the  sea;  and  the 
court-yard  to  the  deck.  Up  and  down  this  latter  we  used  to 
walk  day  after  day,  stopping  every  now  and  again  to  gaze 
through  our  ])owerful  field-glasses  towards  the  far- distant 
horizon  — a view  which  never  varied  in  its  dull  lifelessness 
except  on  one  day  in  the  week.  That  was  Tuesday,  when  all 
eyes  were  early  on  the  alert  for  a single,  solitary  horseman,  the 
post-courier  (jighit),  who  brought  the  eagerly  expected  mails 
from  far-off  Russia.  His  arrival  was  the  great  event  of  the 
week. 

When  his  horse  trots  in  through  the  gate,  every  man  of 
the  garrison  hurries  out  to  receive  him.  1 he  commandant’s 
adjutant  makes  haste  to  open  the  mail-bags,  hverybody 
stands  around  in  anxious  expectation.  The  adjutant  draws 
forth  the  letters,  newspapers,  post-i)arcels  from  those  they 


if.La(;s  oxiM()(n  ‘miimv.i  ,io 


FORT  FAiMlR 


191 

love,  now,  alas  ! so  far  off.  I le  distributes  them  to  the  hapjjy 
recipients.  Joy  reigns  supreme,  e.xcept  in  the  bosoms  of  the 
unhappy  beings  for  whom  this  Asiatic  I'ather  Christmas  has 
brought  no  heart-warming  gift.  I'or  three  post-days  in  suc- 
cession I was  counted  among  the  unenvied  ones.  This  was 
because  of  the  alteration  in  my  route.  .All  my  letters  were 
sent  on  to  Kashgar,  with  the  result  that  for  a period  of  four 
whole  months  I never  received  a single  letter  from  home. 
The  contents  of  the  mail -bags  distributed,  the  rest  of  the 
day  is  spent  in  greedily  devouring  the  welcome  home  news. 
Fveninsf  comes.  Officers  and  men  meet  for  dinner,  each  in 
their  own  quarters.  But  all  alike  jnirsue  one  common  topic 
of  conversation  — the  events  which  have  been  happening 
recently  in  the  great  world  of  politics  and  human  action 
from  one  end  of  the  world  to  the  other. 

Our  day  was  generally  spent  in  the  following  manner: 
Every  man  had  tea  (first  breakfast)  in  his  own  room.  At 
noon  precisely  a signal  by  roll  of  drum  called  us  all  together 
for  a substantial  breakfast.  After  that  we  had  tea  again  in 
our  private  quarters.  At  si.x  o’clock  a fresh  drum-signal  re- 
minded us  that  dinner  was  ready.  After  dinner  we  broke 
up  into  little  groups,  to  each  of  which  coffee  was  served 
round.  We  then  talked  until  late  into  the  night;  and  tow- 
ards midnight  I and  the  commandant  used  to  have  a snack 

O 

of  supper. 

Drill  filled  up  most  of  the  morning  hours.  The  soldiers 
and  Cossacks  were  also  during  the  course  of  the  day  in- 
structed in  certain  of  the  sciences  which  have  a bearing 
upon  military  matters.  But  my  time  was  for  the  most  part 
occupied  in  more  peaceable  pursuits ; for  one  thing,  photog- 
raphy. In  the  evening,  when  I developed  my  plates,  I was 
usually  surrounded  by  half  a dozen  closely  interested  specta- 
tors, who  never  tired  of  watching  how  as  by  a wizard’s 
“pass”  the  frigid  mountain  scenery  and  its  half-wild  in- 
habitants imparted  life  and  meaning  to  the  photographic 
plates. 

Among  other  things  we  measured  the  volume  of  the  water 
carried  down  by  the  Murghab,  and  set  up  a gauge-post  in  the 


192 


THROUGH  ASIA 


river,  upon  which  one  of  the  officers  might  observe  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  current  during  the  coming  spring  and  sum- 
mer. We  also  measured  the  depth  to  which  the  crust  of 
the  earth  is  frozen  in  winter;  and  industriously  compared 
notes  upon  what  we  had  seen  and  observed.  The  sound- 
ings I made  in  Kara-kul  awakened  the  liveliest  interest. 

O 

Nobody  had  expected  that  the  lake  would  go  down  to  any- 
thing like  a depth  of  756  feet. 

One  of  my  friends  in  Margelan  told  me  that  Fort  Pamir 
was  an  earthly  paradise.  I asked  him  “Why.?” 

He  replied,  “ Because  there  are  no  women  there!” 

Although  I am  very  far  from  sharing  his  opinion,  I am 
bound  to  confess  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  a circle  in 
which  contentment,  cheerful  spirits,  and  the  tone  of  light 
and  easy  comradeship  are  better  preserved  than  they  were 
at  Fort  Pamir.  Nobody  cared  a rush  about  appearances. 
The  officers  went  about  in  threadbare  uniforms  and  with 
their  boots  unpolished.  Nobody  wasted  time  on  the  niceties 
of  the  toilet.  Directly  we  heard  the  dinner-bell,  or  rather 
drum,  we  went  straight  into  the  mess-room  without  stopping 
to  don  such  superfluous  articles  as  collar  and  cufTs.  No 
need  to  furbish  up  all  the  pretty  sayings  a polished  man 
of  the  world  feels  it  obligatory  upon  him  to  whisper  in  the 
ear  of  the  lady  he  takes  in  to  dinner.  In  a word,  every- 
body at  Fort  Pamir  was  perfectly  free,  subject  to  no  irk- 
some social  restraints.  Cossacks  prepared  and  cooked  the 
food  we  ate.  Cossacks  waited  at  table.  Cossacks  rubbed  us 
down  in  the  bath-room,  acted  as  house  and  chamber  maids, 
even  washed  our  dirty  linen,  d'here  was  not  the  faintest 
glimpse  of  a petticoat  to  be  seen  inside  P'ort  Pamir.  I'he 
only  creatures  of  the  female  sex  within  its  walls,  so  far  as  I 
was  able  to  ascertain,  were  a female  cat,  a coujDle  of  bitches, 
and  some  hens.  But  to  call  Fort  Pamir  a j)aradise  because 
no  woman  brightened  it  with  her  lovely  smile  — that  is  a 
doctrine  I certainly  cannot  subscribe  to. 

Captain  Saitseff  enjoyed  the  full  sympathy  and  esteem 
of  his  officers,  and  maintained  the  strictest  discij)line  and 
"ood  order  amono;  the  men  under  his  command.  I'he  lom>; 


II IK  J 1(1  hits’  I'liNTS  AT  FORT  I'A.MIR 


i 


FORT  PAMIR 


195 


dreary  winter,  during  which  the  little  garrison  had  been 
straitly  shut  uj)  within  the  walls  of  their  foit,  like  a band 
of  Polar  explorers  compelled  to  winter  in  their  ice-bound 
vessel,  had  not  occasioned  the  least  slackening  of  discipline, 
the  least  indifference  or  discontent  among  either  officers  or 
men.  Nevertheless  the  immediate  approach  of  spring,  which 
was  indicated  by  the  increased  warmth  of  the  sun’s  rays,  by 
the  meltimr  of  the  snows  on  the  mountains,  and  of  the  ice 


RUSSIANS  AND  KIRGHIZ  AT  FORT  PAMIR 

on  the  lakes  and  rivers,  seemed  to  reawaken  several  domi- 
nant interests.  It  was  a season  when  every  day  brought 
fresh  opportunities  for  scientific  observation.  Already  the 
birds  had  begun  their  summer  migrations.  Small  flocks  of 
ducks  and  geese  of  a great  variety  of  species  were  on  the 
wing  from  their  winter-quarters  in  India  to  their  summer 
haunts  in  Siberia.  The  Murghab  was  apparently  one  of 
their  favorite  resting-places,  where,  alas ! several  of  them 
entered  upon  a rest  that  was  destined  to  prove  unexpectedly 
long.  The  Cossacks  spread  their  nets  in  the  river.  Others 


THROUGH  ASIA 


196 

of  the  garrison  took  their  sporting-rifles  and  stalked  the  wary 
arkhari  or  wild  sheep  [Ovis  Poll),  and  not  seldom  brought 
home  a pretty  well  filled  bag. 

I'he  relations  between  officers  and  men  were  in  all  re- 
spects excellent.  On  one  occasion,  when  thirty  time-expired 
men  were  setting  off  to  return  to  their  homes  in  Osh,  it  was 
quite  touching  to  see  how,  in  orthodox  Russian  fashion,  their 
superiors  kissed  each  man  three  times  on  the  cheeks.  Their 
rifle  on  their  shoulder  and  their  knapsack  on  their  back,  the 
men  set  out  right  cheerfully  to  tramp  the  long  280  miles 
which  should  bring  them  to  their  more  genial  homes  in  the 
warm  valleys  of  Fergana. 

Sunday  was  given  up  to  all  kinds  of  games  and  dancing. 
The  music  was  but  poor,  being  limited  to  a concertina,  two 
drums,  a triangle,  and  a couple  of  cymbals  ; but  the  perform- 
ers went  to  work  with  a will,  and  made  the  very  most  of 
their  resources,  while  the  cleverest  of  the  Cossacks  danced 
their  national  kamarensky  with  such  spirit  that  the  dust 


* 


TllK  CONGLOMERATE  TERRACE  ON  WHICH  EORT  I’AMIR  STANDS 


whirled  up  around  them  in  clouds.  'Fhcn.  when  the  sun  set, 
and  the  west  wind,  which  at  regular  intervals  during  the  day 
had  swept  past  the  fort  with  an  angry  howl,  subsided,  there 
rose  ui)on  the  rarefied  mountain  air  a succession  of  Russian 


FORT  PAMIR 


'97 


son^s,  sung  bv  some  seventy  fresh,  strong  voices.  'I'hey 
were  partly  folk-songs  with  a melancholy  cadence,  partly 
soldiers'  ditties  of  a livelier  character.  'I'he  last  Sunday  of 
my  stay  at  Fort  Pamir  wa.s  closed  hy  a musical  evening  of 
this  kind.  The  atmosphere  was  still  and  calm,  the  air  cold  ; 

I 


LANDSC.\PE  NEAR  FORT  PAMIR,  I.OOKINC;  NORTHWEST — RU.SSIAN 
OFFICERS  RETURNING  FROM  A HUNT 

the  stars  glittered  with  indescribable  brilliancy ; and  the 
gentle  murmur  of  the  Murghab  stole  upon  the  ear  in  the 
pauses  of  the  singing.  The  soldiers  sang  with  much  feeling, 
as  though  their  hearts  were  touched  by  memories  of  their 
far-off  native  land;  and  their  officers  and  myself  listened 
with  genuine  sympathy,  as  their  fresh,  warm  voices  melted 
away  into  the  lofty  regions  of  immeasurable  space. 


THE  MUS-TAGH-ATA  AM)  ITS  GLACIERS 


CIIAPTKR  XVI 


FROM  THE  Ml'ROiHAB  TO  r.lTA’X-KUL 

On  April  7th,  1894,  aftt*r  jiartaking  of  a substantial  break- 
fast, I bade  adieu  to  k'ort  Pamir,  though  I was  escorted  a 
good  distance  on  my  way  by  the  commandant  and  his  offi- 
cers. Arrived  at  the  little  torrent  of  .\k-baital,  we  found 
some  of  the  Cossacks  awaiting  us  with  tea.  Then,  having 
thanked  my  Russian  friends  for  the  splendid  hosj^itality  they 
had  shown  me  during  those  never-to-be-forgotten  days — a 
last  shake  of  the  hand  from  the  saddle,  a last  wave  of  the 
cap,  and  away  I spurred  towards  the  north,  followed  by  the 
interpreter  of  the  fort,  the  Tatar,  Kul  .Mametieff,  whom  the 
commandant  sent  with  me  as  a guard  of  honor. 

Just  as  daylight  was  fading  we  came  to  the  twin  lakes 
Shor-kul  and  Rang-kul,  which  are  connected  by  a narrow 
sound.  I'here  we  took  up  our  quarters  for  the  night,  camp- 
ing in  a yulavicika,  a tall,  conical  tent  with  no  smoke-vent. 
Meanwhile  my  right-hand  man,  Rehim  Bai,  had  fallen  ill,  and 
all  the  way  to  Kashgar  was  totally  unfitted  to  discharge  his 
regular  duties.  We  had  to  transport  him  thither  like  a bale 
of  goods  on  the  back  of  a camel.  His  place  was  taken  by  the 
man  of  whom  I have  spoken  before — Islam  Bai;  and  it  was 
during  this  part  of  my  journey  that  I first  learned  to  know 
and  \alue  that  excellent  man’s  many  excellent  qualities. 

The  snow  lay  in  scanty  patches  ; but  both  lakes  were  sealed 
with  thick  sheets  of  ice.  Strange  to  say,  however,  the  sound 
between  them  was  open  water,  and  swarmed  with  wild  duck 
and  wild  geese.  The  configuration  of  the  ground — grassy 
plains  sloping  gently  down  towards  the  lakes  — suggested 
that  the  lakes  themselves  were  shallow. 

Next  day  I sent  the  caravan  by  the  nearest  road  to  the  lit- 


202 


THROUGH  ASIA 


tie  fort  of  Rang-kul,  while  I myself  with  four  men  started 
across  the  ice  of  Rang-kul  to  take  soundings.  We  only 
chopped  out  two  holes,  and  found  that  the  lake  was  as  a 
matter  of  fact  extraordinarily  shallow,  the  two  measurements 
giving  5 feet  and  feet  respectively.  The  ice,  on  which 
was  a thin  sprinkling  of  snow,  was  3 feet  and  3^  feet  thick 
where  the  two  sounding-holes  were  hewn.  There  was  a small 
open  channel  close  alongside  the  shore.  The  temperature  of 
the  water  in  the  sounding-holes  was  31.6°  Fahr.  ( — 0.2°  C.) ; 
at  the  bottom,  which  was  covered  with  loose  slime  and  mud, 
mingled  with  decayed  vegetable  matter,  it  was  37°  (2.8°  C.). 
The  vegetable  matter  consisted  almost  exclusively  of  algae 
and  sedges.  The  word  ranga  is  used  to  indicate  the  sedge 
Carex  physoidcs.  All  the  same,  it  is  more  likely  that  the 
lake  derives  its  name  from  the  wild  goat  which  frequents  that 
region,  and  which  is  known  as  the  rang  and  the  kiyick. 

The  word  Shor-kul  means  “salt  lake,”  and  its  waters  were 
both  salt  and  bitter.  It  was  pretty  evident  that,  while  Rang- 
kul  was  fed  by  fresh  springs  and  streams,  Shor-kul  derived 
its  supplies  from  Rang-kul  through  the  little  sound  already 
spoken  of;  and  that  evaporation  went  on  to  a very  much 
greater  extent  in  the  former,  leaving  the  saline  concentrates 
behind  it.  In  the  eastern  end  of  Rang-kul  there  was  a long 
narrow  island,  barely  a dozen  feet  high,  but  with  perpendicu- 
lar shores  of  soft,  grayish-blue  clay,  much  eaten  into  by  the 
waters  of  the  lake.  Vast  numbers  of  wild  geese  are  said  to 
breed  there  every  spring  as  soon  as  the  ice  melts. 

The  soundings  taken,  we  rode  straight  across  the  lake,  and 
on  to  the  fort,  garrisoned  by  about  twoscore  Cossacks  un- 
der a commandant.  We  stayed  there  two  days.  We  left  the 
fort  on  April  iith,  riding  almost  due  east  towards  the  little 
pass  of  Sarik-gai,  which  crosses  a spur  of  the  northern  moun- 
tains. On  the  west  side  of  the  hill  we  were  approaching,  the 
wind,  mostly  coming  from  the  west,  had  heaped  up  enormous 
masses  of  sand,  shaping  them  into  gigantic  dunes  or  billows 
with  a slightly  corrugated  surface.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
pass  we  descended  into  the  broad,  open,  level  valley  of  Naisa- 
tash,  in  which  were  two  Kirghiz  auls  (tent- villages).  We 


FROM  THK  MURGIIAH  TO  HULUN-KUL  203 


took  up  our  cjuartcrs  in  tlie  one  wliich  stood  fartlicst  east. 
It  consisted  of  five  yurts  (tents),  occupied  by  nineteen  indi- 
viduals of  the  Chighit  tribe,  ten  of  them  being  men.  They 
spend  the  winter  and  summer  beside  Lake  Rang-kul ; but 
cross  over  into  the  valley  of  Naisa-tash  for  the  spring  graz- 
ing. Their  wealth  in  live-stock  embraced  400  sheep,  40  yaks, 
7 camels,  and  3 horses. 

On  the  following  day,  April  12th,  we  were  to  cross  the 
provisional  frontier- line  between  the  Russian  and  Chinese 
Pamirs.  Ever  since  we  left  Rang-kul  we  had  seen  glittering 
immediately  ahead  of  us  the  snowy  crests  of  Sarik-kol.  That 
lofty  range  we  had  to  climb  over.  Out  of  the  several  passes 
which  lead  over  it  I chose  the  one  known  as  Chuggatai,  15,- 
500  feet  in  altitude.  We  struck  off  towards  the  northeast. 
The  inclination  increased  the  farther  we  advanced,  until  at 
the  foot  of  the  pass  it  became  very  steep  and  difficult.  The 
track  too  was  not  at  all  easy,  being  strewn  with  large  blocks 
of  gneiss  and  clay-slate,  still  draped  for  the  most  part  with 
snow.  On  the  summit  of  the  pass,  which  had  a high,  sharp 
pitch  like  a house-roof,  we  halted  to  rest;  and  while  resting 
were  surprised  by  a violent  hail-storm  which  came  out  of  the 
southwest.  The  temperature  was  5°  F'ahr.  below  freezing- 
point  (—2.8°  C.). 

The  descent  towards  the  north,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
range,  was  equally  as  steep  as  the  ascent  had  been  ; and  it 
cost  us  a wearisome  march  to  reach  the  first  aul  of  Chuggatai 
— a little  collection  of  four  yurts  with  twenty-four  inhabitants. 
But  we  pushed  on  to  another  aul  of  six  yurts  a short  distance 
lower  down.  There  we  made  our  first  camp  on  Chinese 
territory. 

I speedily  learned  that  all  sorts  of  wildly  extravagant  ru- 
mors were  flying  about  the  neighborhood  concerning  me.  It 
was  said  that  I was  a Russian,  coming,  at  the  head  of  three- 
score Cossacks  armed  to  the  teeth,  to  make  a hostile  raid 
into  Chinese  territory.  My  arrival  had  therefore  been  looked 
forward  to  with  not  a little  apprehension.  But  when  the  Kir- 
ghiz saw  me  ride  up  alone,  accompanied  by  only  a small  band 
of  their  fellow-believers,  their  fears  quickly  subsided,  and  they 


204 


THROUGH  ASIA 


gave  me  a very  friendly  welcome.  All  the  same,  they  lost  no 
time  in  sending  off  a mounted  messenger  to  Jan  Darin,  com- 
mandant of  the  little  Chinese  fort  of  Bulun-kul. 

The  next  morning,  therefore,  I was  not  surprised  to  see 
the  emissaries  of  the  Chinese  officer  ride  up,  bringing  greet- 
ings of  welcome.  They  were  also  charged  to  find  out  who  I 
was,  and  what  was  my  business.  The  head  of  the  “ embassy  ” 
was  one  Osman  Be«‘  of  Taohdumbash,  a fine-lookingr  Kir- 
ghiz,  with  a handsome,  intelligent  countenance.  He  com- 
manded a lanza  or  troop  at  Bulun-kul.  His  companions  were 
Yar  Mohammed  Beg,  chief  of  the  frontier-guard  stationed  at 
Kiyak-bash,  and  a mollah  or  priest.  All  three  wore  white 
turbans  and  parti-colored  khalats  (long  Kirghiz  coats).  Their 
mission  accomplished,  they  rode  back  to  Bulun-kul  to  make 
their  report. 

The  aul  (tent-village)  was  situated  near  the  junction  of  the 
Chuggatai  and  Ak-berdi  valleys.  At  that  point  the  stream 
has  cut  its  way  to  a great  depth  into  the  thick  conglomerate 
strata,  so  that  the  huge  bowlders  of  coarse  crystalline  rock, 
which  overhung  the  current,  threatened  every  moment  to  top- 
ple down  the  precipitous  banks  into  the  river.  The  valley  of 
Ak-berdi  was  also  eroded  to  a great  depth,  and  was  obstructed 
with  blocks  of  conglomerate.  Consequently,  agreeably  to  what 
I have  said  above,  the  chain  of  Sarik-kol  forms  the  boundary 
line  between  two  widely  differing  areas  of  physical  confor- 
mation. On  the  inner  side  it  is  flanked  by  a region  of  Cen- 
tral depression,  with  broad,  shallow,  level  valleys,  possessing 
no  drainage  outlet  towards  the  ocean.  On  its  outer  side — 

O 

that  is,  towards  the  east — it  overlooks  a Peripheral  region, 
where  the  valleys  are  deep  and  narrow,  and  the  effects  of  the 
erosive  action  of  the  outward-flowing  streams  assume  gran- 
diose proj)ortions. 

On  April  13th  we  made  only  a very  short  stage,  as  far  as 
the  point  where  the  valley  of  Ak-berdi  runs  out  into  the 
valley  of  .Sarik-kol.  The  accommodation  provided  for  me 
there  consisted  of  one  miserable  yurt,  covered  with  ragged 
felts.  P'or  precaution’s  sake  it  was  j)ut  uji  at  a distance  of 
three  kitchkerini  or  “shouts”  (/T.,  the  distance  to  which  the 


FROM  'rUF  MUR(;HAH  to  BULUN-KUL  205 


luiman  voice  can  be  heard  wlien  raised  in  a loud  shout)  from 
the  fort.  W'e  had  scarcely  got  our  baggage  stowed  away  in 
something  like  order  when  a y?iz-bas/n  of  one  hundred 

men)  came  to  announce  that  the  acting  commandant  of  Hu- 
lun-kul,  the  Kirghiz  officer,  Tura  Kelldi  Savgan,  together 
with  Chao  Darin,  his  Chine.se  colleague  of  Tar-bashi,  a little 
fort  at  the  mouth  of  the  Cihez  valley,  were  on  the  way  to  pay 
me  a visit.  I had  barely  time  to  get  outside  the  yurt  when 
up  thev  trotted  with  half  a score  Chinese  soldiers  at  their 
heels.  A gay  spectacle  they  made,  too,  with  their  gray  trou- 
sers, shoes,  and  scarlet  tunics,  decorated  with  large  Chinese 
ideographs  (language  signs)  in  black.  lAery  man  was  armed 
with  a ride,  and  rode  a white  horse,  bearing  a red  saddle  and 
big  stirrups  which  rattled  noisily.  I invited  them  to  step 
inside  the  tent,  and  bade  my  men  serve  round  an  extra 
daintv  dastarkhan  (lunch),  consisting  of  sardines,  chocolate, 
preserved  fruits,  sweet  cakes,  and  lic|ueur — delicacies  which 
I had  brought  with  me  from  Margelan  sjiecially  to  tickle 
the  Chinese  palate.  Chao  Darin  conceived  a particularly 
stnmg  affection  for  the  liqueur,  and  inquired  how  much  a 
man  could  drink  without  getting  intoxicated.  My  cigar- 
ettes too  met  with  much  appreciation  ; although  my  Chinese 
friend  Chao  Darin  preferred  his  own  silver- mounted  water- 
pipe. 

Conversation  was  carried  on  between  myself  and  the  man- 
darin under  considerable  difficulties.  At  that  time  I was 
not  sufficiently  master  of  the  Kirghiz  tongue  to  be  able  to 
speak  it  duently.  I therefore  expressed  myself  to  Kul 
Mametieff  in  Russian.  Kul  Mametieff  conveyed  my  mean- 
ing in  the  Turki  language  to  the  mandarin’s  interpreter,  a 
Sart  from  Turfan,  and  he  in  his  turn  passed  on  the  message 
in  Chinese  to  Chao  Darin. 

Tura  Kelldi  Savgan  was  a pleasant  man,  with  a good  deal 
of  vivacity  of  manner,  at  once  a smart  and  cautious  diploma- 
tist. As  soon  as  they  learned  of  my  intention  to  make  an 
attempt  to  climb  Mus-tagh-ata,  they  objected  to  Kul  Mame- 
tieff going  with  me,  on  the  ground  that  he  was  a subject  of 
Russia.  But  when  I showed  them  my  pass,  and  the  letter  I 


206 


THROUGH  ASIA 


carried  from  Shu  King  Sheng,  the  Chinese  ambassador  at 
the  Court  of  St.  Petersburg,  addressed  to  the  Dao  Tai  of 
Kashgar,  they  withdrew  their  opposition,  but  stipulated  that, 
immediately  we  came  down  from  the  mountain,  Kul  Mame- 
tieff  should  take  the  shortest  road  back  to  the  Russian  Pa- 
mirs. On  the  other  hand,  a Kirghiz  allik -bashi,  a non-com- 
missioned officer  who  nominally  commanded  fifty  men,  was 
bidden  to  go  back  at  once,  having  no  pass.  I then  pro- 
posed to  send  Rehim  Bai  on  a camel  direct  to  Kashgar,  for 
his  illness  was  assuming  a critical  phase,  and  he  was  in  ur- 
gent need  of  rest  and  comfortable  quarters.  But  to  this 
Tura  Kelldi  Savgan  would  not  agree;  for  if,  said  he,  Rehim 
Bai  were  to  die  on  the  road,  his  death  would  involve  the  Chi- 
nese authorities  in  difficulties.  It  was  only  by  promising  to 
return  to  Bulun  - kul  when  I came  back  from  my  ascent  of 
Mus-tagh-ata,  and  not  make  for  Kashgar  by  any  other  route, 
that  I finally  succeeded  in  overcoming  the  last  of  their  scru- 
ples. Even  then  I had  to  leave  behind  in  their  hands  one  of 
my  men  as  a hostage,  together  with  one-half  of  my  baggage. 
This  compact  made,  I announced  that  it  was  my  intention  to 
return  their  visit  without  delay ; but  both  officers  declared 
that  they  had  no  authority  to  admit  a European  inside  the 
fort  in  the  absence  of  the  commandant,  Jan  Darin,  who  had 
gone  to  Kashgar.  But  Jan  Darin  would  soon  return,  they 
said. 

In  this  laborious  way  we  parleyed  backward  and  forward 
for  five  mortal  hours.  When  at  last  they  rose  to  go,  I 
thought  to  make  a good  impression  upon  them  by  present- 
ing them  with  a Tula  kius/ial  (dagger)  and  a silver  drinking- 
cup.  They  protested,  it  was  not  at  all  the  right  thing  for 
me  to  offer  them  presents  after  such  a rccliej'ch'e  dastarkhan  ; 
that  it  ought  to  be  the  other  way  on,  seeing  that  I was  their 
guest.  But  in  the  end  they  suffered  themselves  to  be  per- 
suaded, saying  they  hoped  to  have  an  opportunity  to  return 
my  presents  when  I came  back  from  my  trip  up  the  Mus- 
tagh-ata.  Having  taken  their  leave  in  due  form,  they  gal- 
lojjed  off  in  a whirlwind  of  dust,  through  which  their  white 
horses,  their  scarlet  uniforms,  their  glittering  weapons  were 


FROM  THF  MLM^GHAB  TO  HULUN-KUL 


207 


for  a long  distance  dimly  visible.  .And  we  never  saw  a 
glimpse  of  the  gentlemen  again;  although  they  indicated 
their  presence  by  forbidding  the  Kirghiz  of  the  neighborhood 
to  furnish  me  with  supplies  of  mutton,  fuel,  and  other  neces- 
saries. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  spent  in  making  preparations  for 
the  ascent  of  .Mus-tagh-ata.  I decided  to  take  only  four  men 
with  me — namely,  Kul  Mametieff,  Islam  Bai,  and  the  two 
Kirghiz,  Omar  and  Khoda  \Trdi.  Four  pack  - horses  were 
got  readv  to  carry  the  necessary  baggage  — provisions,  bed, 
furs,  presents,  medicine-chest,  jjhotograjihic  ajijxaratus,  scien- 
tific instruments,  and  several  other  indispensable  articles. 
Fiverything  else  was  left  behind  in  the  care  of  Khoja,  the 
Sart,  who  was  also  charged  to  look  after  Rehim  Bai.  The 
more  comfortable  quarters  I succeeded  in  getting  for  the  in- 
valid had  done  him  no  good.  I'he  winter  journey  over  the 
Pamirs  had  completely  broken  him  down.  His  cheeks  were 
white  and  hollow,  his  eyes  big,  and  with  a vacant,  glassy  stare 
in  them.  His  friends  would  scarcely  have  recognized  him, 
he  was  so  changed.  He  offered  a he-goat  to  .Allah,  and  de- 
clared that  he  felt  a little  better  in  consequence. 

In  the  evening  we  were  honored  with  a visit  from  some  of 
the  Chinese  soldiers  from  the  fort.  They  begged  to  be  al- 
lowed to  peep  into  one  or  two  of  my  commissariat  boxes  and 
yakhtans  (packing-cases).  We  afterwards  learned  that  up  at 
the  fort  they  believed  all  my  boxes  were  packed  full  of  Rus- 
sian soldiers,  who  in  that  way  were  being  smuggled  across 
the  frontier.  The  fact  that  each  and  every  trunk  1 had  was 
only  capable  of  holding  at  the  most  about  one -half  of  a sol- 
dier did  not  in  any  way  help  to  allay  their  suspicions.  I 
opened  two  or  three,  and  after  that  they  appeared  to  be 
easier  in  their  minds.  During  the  night  the  Chinese  placed 
sentries  all  round  my  tent ; but  they  had  the  good  feeling  to 
post  them  at  a distance  and  out  of  sight.  It  was  plain  they 
had  received  orders  to  keep  us  under  surveillance,  and  find 
out  what  was  my  real  purpose  in  visiting  this  remote  corner 
of  the  vast  Chinese  empire. 

Whichever  way  we  turned,  we  had  a magnificent  view  be- 


2o8 


THROUGH  ASIA 


fore  us.  Due  east,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  little  lake  of 
Bulun-kul,  rose  the  sublime  snow-clad  mountain  mass  of  Ak- 
tau, the  “ White  Mountain,”  the  northern  continuation  of 
Mus  - tas:h  - ata.  On  the  left  of  it  was  the  beoinnino'  of  the 
Ghez  vallev,  and  on  the  risfht  the  broad  troimh  of  Sarik  - kol. 
In  the  near  foreground,  and  only  a short  distance  from  our 
camp,  was  the  little  Kirghiz  aul  of  half  a dozen  yurts;  while 
the  mountain  - slopes  around  were  dotted  with  long-haired 
yaks,  grunting  as  they  grazed.  To  the  south  lay  the  be- 
ginning of  the  narrow  glen  called  Kum-yilga,  the  “ .Sand 
Ra\'ine.” 


CH.APTKR  XVII 


MrS-T.\(iH-ATA 


It  was  April  14th  when  we  set  off  to  climb  the  great  Mus- 
tagh-ata.  Immediately  after  we  started  we  were  met  by  a vio- 
lent storm  from  the  east,  which  drove  clouds  of  fine  drift-sand 
straight  into  our  eyes.  Having  passed  the  two  little  lakes  of 
Bulun-kul  and  taken  a distant  glance  at  the  fort,  we  turned 
up  the  broad  valley  of  Sarik-kol.  For  fully  an  hour  we  were 
followed  by  a big  black  yak.  We  wondered  whether  he  was 
trained  to  play  the  part  of  spy;  but  eventually  he  grew  tired 
of  keeping  up  with  us,  and  stojjped. 

The  vallev  of  Sarik-kol  is  a gigantic  trench,  piercing  to  the 
heart  of  the  stupendous  Pamir  jDlateau.  Sometimes  narrow, 
sometimes  expanding  to  a considerable  width,  its  bottom  is 
littered  with  huge  bowlders  of  gneiss  and  other  rocky  debris^ 
all  polished  smooth  by  the  action  of  water.  At  one  place  we 
came  to  a colossal  erratic  block  of  gneiss  split  clean  in  two, 
in  such  a way  that  we  were  able  to  ride  between  the  two 
halves  as  though  we  were  going  through  the  gateway  of  a 
mediaeval  town.  The  valley  itself  was  hemmed  in  on  both 
sides  by  lofty  mountains,  the  flanks  of  which  were  thickly 
strewn  with  crumbled  and  disintegrated  rocks.  Scantily  sup- 
plied with  pasture-grounds,  it  was  uninhabited  except  for  a 
single,  solitary  yurt.  On  the  whole  it  sloped  up  gradually 
and  easilv  towards  the  foot  of  Mus-tagh-ata. 

W’e  soon  perceived  that  we  were  no  longer  travelling  in  the 
Russian  portion  of  the  Pamirs.  When  we  came  to  the  end 
of  our  day's  march,  we  found  no  yurt  ready  pitched  for  us  by 
Kirghiz  sent  on  in  advance.  We  were  now,  plainly  enough, 
on  the  Chinese  side  of  the  frontier.  We  were  no  longer  to 
be  indulged  with  such  luxuries  and  comforts.  How  many  a 
14 


2 10 


THROUGH  ASIA 


night  after  tliat  did  we  not  sleep  under  the  open  sky ! Such 
was  our  fate  on  this  the  first  night  of  our  trip.  We  endeav- 
ored to  make  the  best  of  circumstances,  by  looking  about  for 
a hollow  that  was  in  some  degree  sheltered  from  the  wind. 
We  found  one  in  a part  of  the  valley  called  Kayindehdala 
(the  Birch  Plain).  A singularly  inappropriate  name,  for  the 
ground  was  stony  and  barren,  and  there  was  not  a single 
specimen  of  the  graceful  green  lace-work  which  drapes  the 
birch  to  be  seen.  Very  possibly,  however,  the  name  is  a sur- 
vival from  a time  when  those  trees  did  grow  in  the  locality. 

We  encamped  under  the  shelter  of  a huge  block  of  gneiss, 
which  leaned  over  a little  towards  the  south.  Round  the 
front  of  it  somebody  had  built  up  a low  wall  of  stones,  which 
afforded  some  measure  of  protection  against,  at  any  rate,  the 
worst  of  the  wind.  We  piled  the  baggage  all  round  us,  spread 
out  our  carpets,  and  made  our  camp  as  comfortable  as  we 
could ; and  when  shortly  afterwards  our  ears  were  greeted 
with  the  bubbling  of  the  soup  over  the  fire  of  teresken  fag- 
ots we  were  as  happy  as  kings.  But  the  wind  whistled  in 
through  the  crevices  between  the  stones,  and  dust  and  sand 
kept  swirling  round  us  in  eddies,  so  that  our  teeth  gritted 
every  time  we  took  a mouthful  of  food.  Once  during  the 
evening  it  snowed  a little,  but  about  ten  o’clock  the  weather 
changed  with  marvellous  suddenness.  The  atmosphere  be- 
came calm,  and  the  sky  clear.  Then  the  moon  came  forth 
and  poured  her  light  into  our  grotto,  and  lit  up  the  desolate 
scene,  deepening  the  oppressive  silence  and  making  the  val- 
ley appear  ten  times  more  dreary  and  awe-inspiring  than  it 
was  before. 

April  15th.  The  farther  we  went  towards  the  south  the 
more  broken  grew  the  surface.  W e came  to  the  little  Alpine 
lake  of  Bassyk-kul,  with  its  fantastic  shore-line,  leading  me 
to  think  that  its  deep  inlets  must  have  been  carved  out  by 
the  most  capricious  of  the  brownies.  The  middle  of  the  lake 
was  crusted  with  ice,  brittle  and  ])orous ; but  close  in  beside 
the  shore  we  saw  open  water.  It  was  pure,  limpid,  and  sweet 
to  the  taste.  At  a short  distance  from  the  lake  I observed 
an  old  Chinese  inscription,  engraved  on  a block  of  gneiss  that 


MUS-TAGll-ATA 


2 I I 


was  deeply  embedded  in  the  ground  and  surrounded  by  a 
rough  wall  of  stones.  Close  by  were  two  other  gneiss  bowl- 
ders, both  bearing  signs  of  having  been  subjected  to  the  smooth- 
ing, polishing  action  of  glacial  ice.  On  one  of  them  I just 
discerned  traces  of  an  inscription  similar  to  that  on  the  stone 
already  mentioned,  but  most  of  the  lettering  had  been  obliter- 
ated by  the  wind  and  its  powerful  ally,  the  drift-sand.  'I'he 
place  where  the  stones  were  was  called  I'amga-tash,  or  the 
Signet  Stone. 

.A  low  hill  in  the  vicinity  gave  us  a distant  \'iew  of  the 
Little  Kara-kul,  a beautiful  .Alpine  lake  imbosomed  in  deep 
mountains,  whose  reflections  played  upon  its  surface,  con- 
stantly changing  its  waters  from  blue  to  green  and  from 
green  to  blue.  The  ice  was  all  gone,  except  for  a small 
strip  near  the  southern  shore.  .A  fresh  breeze  was  blowing 
off  the  lake,  ruffling  its  surface  with  foam  - tijjped  waves, 
which  chased  one  another  in  endless  succession,  and  finally 
broke  against  the  shore  with  a rhythmical  and  harmonious 
murmur. 

The  path  gradually  approached  closer  to  the  lake  until  it 
was  only  separated  from  it  by  a chain  of  low  hills,  the  sur- 
viving remnant,  as  I discovered  on  a second  visit,  of  an  an- 
cient moraine,  d'hat  I should  come  back  again  to  that  lake, 
I little  dreamed  at  the  time  I first  saw  it ; and  yet  I did  come 
back,  and  its  lovely  shores  grew  dear  to  me ! How  many  a 
lonely  evening  did  I not  lie  and  listen  to  the  mysterious  tid- 
ings which  those  melodious  wavelets  whispered,  and  which 
there  was  none  to  interpret ! And  how  many  a time  did  I 
not  feast  my  eyes  upon  those  giant  mountains,  which  mirrored 
their  snowy  crests  in  the  transparent  waters  of  the  lake  of  Little 
Kara-kul ! But  I shall  have  occasion  to  relate  my  recollec- 
tions of  the  place  in  a subsequent  chapter,  and  therefore  I 
hasten  on  with  my  journey. 

In  some  places  the  cliffs,  along  which  the  path  ran,  had 
crumbled  away,  and  we  were  obliged  to  scramble  down  as 
best  we  could,  and  ride  through  the  water  along  the  ridge  of 
commingled  debris  and  gravel.  On  the  south  of  the  lake  we 
Struck  into  the  broad  valley  watered  by  the  stream  Su-bashi, 


2 I 2 


THROUGH  ASIA 


where  large  herds  of  shaggy  yaks  were  busy  plucking  the 
young  spring  grass.  In  the  mean  time  the  wind  had  quick- 
ened up  into  a veritable  storm.  Dense  clouds  of  dust  and 
sand,  and  even  fine  particles  of  abraded  rock,  blew  straight 
into  our  faces,  with  such  violence  that  we  were  sometimes 
compelled  to  stand  still  and  turn  our  backs  to  the  storm. 
W'hen  we  came  to  the  fort  that  guards  the  valley,  we  found 
the  Chinese  as  busy  as  bees  unpacking  and  inspecting  a 
fresh  consignment  of  stores  which  had  just  come  in  for  the 
garrison.  But  we  were  met  by  a stalwart  horseman,  Tog- 
dasin  Beo',  chief  of  the  Kirghiz  of  Su-bashi.  He  received 
me  politely  and  in  a friendly  spirit,  and  conducted  me  to  his 
large  and  handsomely  appointed  yurt.  This  man  subsequent- 
ly became  one  of  my  best  friends  among  the  many  I made  in 
Asia. 

As  soon  as  we  got  our  tent  in  order  we  were  honored  bv 
a stream  of  visitors,  who  kept  coming  all  the  evening.  First 
there  were  all  the  Kirghiz  of  the  neighborhood.  'Fhen  we 
had  the  Chinese  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  among  them  some 
Dungans  (Chinese  Mohammedans).  All  the  sick  too  of  the 
valley  came  to  me  begging  for  medicine.  One  old  woman 
said  she  had  the  Kokand  sickness.  Another  patient  suffered 
from  toothache.  A third  had  a pain  in  his  nose.  One  of 
the  Dungan  soldiers  experienced  an  uncomfortable  feeling  in 
his  stomach  when  a storni  was  blowing.  And  so  they  went 
on.  I treated  them  one  and  all  in  the  same  simple  fashion, 
by  prescribing  for  each  alike  a small  dose  of  quinine.  .And 
on  the  principle  that  the  bitterer  the  remedy  the  more  effica- 
cious it  is — a principle  which  is  thoroughly  believed  in  by  all 
Asiatics — they  went  away  universally  satisfied. 

The  next  day  we  were  entertained  at  tea  by  the  notables 
of  the  Kirghiz  auls  and  by  certain  of  the  Chinese  soldiers. 
In  th  e evening  Togdasin  Beg  came  to  my  tent  by  invita- 
tion, and  was  entertained  with  a lic[ueur  and  the  harmonies 
of  a musical-box,  which  so  enraptured  him  that  he  declared 
he  felt  twenty  years  younger.  He  said  he  had  ne\’er  enjoyed 
anything  so  much  since  the  days  when  the  great  Yakub  Beg 
ruled  over  Kashgar.  Somewhere  about  twenty  years  earlier. 


Mi;s- r.\(;H-ATA 


he  told  me,  the  Sultan  of  rurkey  sent  a large  musical-box  as 
a present  to  Yakub  Beg. 

lA-er  since  I left  the  Alai  valley  my  thoughts  had  been 
constantly  running  upon  the  ascent  of  Mus-tagh-ata,  and  1 
neglected  no  opportunity  of  gathering  from  the  Kirghiz  all 


TOGDASIX  BEG 


the  information  I could  at  all  bearing  upon  the  project.  But 
every  man  I talked  to,  without  exception,  assured  me  that  it 
would  be  utterly  impossible  to  reach  the  top.  The  precipices 
and  yawning  chasms  would  prove  insuperable  obstacles  to 
progress.  The  flanks  of  the  mountain  were  sheathed  in  ice 
as  bright  and  smooth  as  glass.  On  them  and  on  the  summit 
storms  roared  without  cessation ; and  if  I were  so  venture- 
some as  to  defy  the  giant,  he  would  bid  the  winds  sweep  me 
away  like  a grain  of  sand. 


214 


THROUGH  ASIA 


But  Mus-tagh-ata  is  truly  a magnificent  mountain.  When- 
ever the  Kirghiz  pass  it,  or  first  catch  sight  of  it  in  the  course 
of  a journey,  they  fall  upon  their  knees  and  say  their  prayers. 
They  declare  that  it  is  the  abode  of  threescore  and  ten  saints. 
Nay,  they  assert  that  it  is  one  gigantic  masar  or  burial-mound 
of  saints.  Within  its  interior  dwell,  among  others,  the  souls 
of  Moses  and  Ali,  the  son-in-law  and  nephew  of  the  prophet 
Mohammed.  When  Ali  lay  at  the  point  of  death  he  proph- 
esied to  those  about  him  that  as  soon  as  the  breath  was  sone 
out  of  his  body  a white  camel  would  come  down  from  heaven 
and  carry  him  away.  As  he  said,  so  it  came  to  pass.  When 
he  was  dead  the  white  camel  appeared,  took  the  holy  man 
on  its  back,  and  hastened  with  him  to  Mus-tagh-ata.  'I'he 
Kirghiz  are  firmly  convinced  that  Moses’  soul  also  abides  in 
that  mountain;  and  for  that  reason  they  sometimes  call  it 
Hazrett-i-Musa,  or  the  Holy  Moses. 

d'he  Kirghiz  of  Su-bashi  told  me  this  story  about  the  holy 
mountain;  Many  hundred  years  ago  an  aged  is/iaji  (holy 
man)  went  up  the  mountain  by  himself.  And  when  he  came 
a certain  way  up  it  he  found  a lake  and  a little  stream,  with 
a white  camel  grazing  on  the  shore.  There  was  also  a large 
garden  planted  with  plum-trees,  and  under  the  plum-trees 
there  walked  to  and  fro  a number  of  venerable  old  men 
dressed  in  white  garments.  The  holy  man  j^lucked  some  of 
the  fruit  and  ate  it.  Then  came  one  of  the  venerable  inhabi- 
tants of  the  warden  and  said  to  him  that  it  was  well  he  had 

O 

done  so;  for  if  he  had  despised  the  fruit,  as  all  those  aged 
men  had  done,  he  would  have  been  condemned  like  them  to 
stay  on  the  mountain,  walking  up  and  down  the  garden,  to 
the  end  of  time.  Then  came  a rider  on  a white  horse  and 
caught  up  the  holy  man,  and  galloped  with  him  down  the 
steep  mountain-side.  And  when  the  ishan  came  to  himself 
he  found  that  he  was  down  in  the  valley,  and  could  only 
remember  dimly  all  the  marvellous  things  he  had  seen. 

d'here  is  also  another  legend  associated  with  this  part  of 
the  world,  dating  from  the  time  when  the  famous  Khan  Khoja 
ruled  overall  the  lands  that  lie  between  Kashgar  and  Manas, 
in  Dzungaria.  I'he  Chinese  sent  two  emissaries  to  Khan 


MUS-TAc;il-ATA 


2'5 


Khoja,  offering  him  peace;  but  he  refused  to  accept  it.  One 
of  the  emissaries  he  killed,  and  cut  off  the  ears  and  nose  of 
the  other,  and  so  sent  him  back  to  the  kmiperor  of  China. 
'I'his  j)ut  the  Hmperor  beside  himself  with  rage.  He  bade 
his  men  fill  three  big  cooking-pots  with  nails.  Then  he  had 
the  nails  counted,  and  took  a vow  that  he  would  send  against 
Khan  Khoja  as  many  soldiers  as  there  were  nails  in  all  three 
pots.  Khan  Khoja  had  an  army  of  70,000  men,  and  for  one 
whole  month  he  lay  encamped  near  .Manas  over  against  the 
innumerable  host  of  the  Chinese.  Hut  at  last  battle  was 
joined,  and  Khan  Khoja  was  defeated  with  the  loss  of 
38,000  men  ; whereupon  he  marched  back  to  Kashgar  with 
the  remnant  of  his  army,  and  from  Kashgar  pushed  on  to 
Hulun -kill,  where  another  battle  was  fought.  Again  the 
Khan  was  defeated,  and  again  he  retreated,  going  as  far  as 
the  lake  of  Little  Kara-kul.  There  he  was  once  more  hard 
pressed  by  the  Chinese;  but  at  the  critical  moment,  when 
things  again  began  to  look  desperate  for  him,  a band  of  forty 
horsemen,  giants  in  size  and  mounted  on  raven-black  horses, 
galloped  down  Mus-tagh-ata,  and.  flinging  themselves  upon 
the  Chinese,  decided  the  battle  in  Khan  Khoja’s  favor. 

Now  there  was  in  his  army  the  palcva?i  (hero)  Chum  Kar 
Kashka  Hater,  and  he  was  counselled  by  his  master  never,  so 
long  as  he  was  engaged  in  fight,  to  look  behind  him.  If  he 
obeyed,  he  would  always  be  victorious ; but  if  he  disobeyed, 
he  would  perish.  In  three  fights  Chum  Kar  obeyed  his 
master,  and  so  overcame  his  adversaries ; but  in  the  fourth 
he  glanced  behind  him,  and  in  the  moment  he  did  so  was 
struck  by  an  arrow  and  slain.  The  hero’s  masar,  or  tomb, 
stands  on  a dominant  buttress  of  the  west  flank  of  Mus-tagh- 
ata.  One  of  the  glaciers  of  the  mountain  commemorates  the 
hero’s  name  to  the  present  day. 

Hut  the  Chinese  soon  gathered  another  army,  numbering 
as  many  men  as  the  stars  in  the  sky,  and  came  and  fell  upon 
Khan  Khoja  near  the  lake  of  Little  Kara-kul.  Thereupon 
the  forty  horsemen  withdrew  and  rode  back  up  Mus-tagh-ata — 
an  ending,  by-the-way,  strangely  at  variance  with  all  the  im- 
aginative tales  I am  acquainted  with  ! Khan  Khoja’s  evil  star 


THROUGH  ASIA 


216 

still  remained  in  the  ascendant.  He  was  worsted  again,  and 
ded  to  Rang-kul  and  Kornei-tarti.  But  the  Chinese  pursued 
after  him  and  compelled  him  to  give  battle  once  again.  His 
army  was  routed  and  scattered  like  chaff,  so  tha<-  at  last  the 
Khan  was  left  alone  with  none  but  his  trumpeter  to  bear  him 
company.  Then  the  Khan  bade  the  trumpeter  sound  his 
trumpet.  Instantly  the  scattered  fragments  of  his  forces 
were  gathered  around  him.  But  they  were  far  too  weak  to 
stand  against  the  Chinese,  who  drove  them  before  them,  pur- 
suing them  over  hill  and  valley  until  they  had  slain  nearly 
all  of  them.  When  Khan  Khoja  at  length  came  to  Yeshil- 
kul  (the  Green  Lake),  he  had  but  fifty  faithful  followers  left. 
There  he  went  up  alone  into  a high  mountain  ; but  when  he 
looked  down  his  men  were  surrounded  by  their  enemies,  the 
Chinese.  Khan  Khoja  gave  them  a sign  with  his  hand,  and 
they  flung  themselves  into  the  lake.  Then,  lo  and  behold ! 
a new  marvel  happened.  They  would  not  sink,  and  the 
Chinese  shot  at  them  as  though  they  had  been  shooting 
wild  duck  or  other  game.  But  Khan  Khoja  took  up  a hand- 
ful of  dust,  muttered  a prayer  over  it,  and  cast  it  over  the 
lake.  In  a moment  the  heroic  fifty  disappeared  beneath  the 
waves.  The  Khan  himself  fled  to  Badakshan  ; but  the  shah 
of  Badakshan  cut  off  his  head  and  sent  it  to  the  Chinese. 
His  body  was  taken  jjossession  of  by  certain  of  his  friends, 
and  by  them  sent  to  Kashgar,  where  it  lies  buried  in  Hazrett- 
Apak. 

The  Kirghiz  tell  further,  that  on  the  top  of  Mus-tagh-ata 

there  exists  an  ancient  city  named  Janaidar,  which  was  built 

in  the  days  when  universal  happiness  and  universal  peace 

reigned  throughout  the  world.  But  since  that  time  there 

has  been  no  intercourse  between  the  people  of  Janaidar  and 

the  inhabitants  of  the  earth.  Consequently  the  former  still 

enjoy  an  existence  of  unblemished  happiness.  In  the  city 

of  bliss  there  are  fruit-trees  which  bear  magnificent  fruit 

all  the  vear  round,  flowers  which  never  wither,  women  who 
✓ 

never  (ji-ow  old  and  never  lose  their  beautv.  d'he  choicest 
pleasures  of  life  are  as  common  there  as  bread ; death,  cold, 
and  darkness  are  banished  from  its  confines  forever. 


MUS-TAC;iI-ATA 


In  a word,  Mus-tairh-ata  resembles  Mount  Demavend  in 
Northern  Persia,  and  other  strikingly  consjiicuous  mountains, 
in  being-  invested  with  a halo  of  mystery  and  made  the  cen- 
tre of  a tissue  of  fantastic  legends  and  stories.  The  half- 
wild  Kirghiz  look  u])on  it  as  a holy  mountain,  and  regard  it 
with  jirofound  reverence  and  fear.  No  wonder,  then,  the 
P'uroj)ean  does  not  escape  the  magic  glamour  of  its  spell ! 

Mus-tagh-ata,  the  loftiest  mountain  of  the  Pamirs,  and  one 
of  the  loftiest  mountains  in  the  world,  towers  uj)  to  the 
height  of  25,600  feet,  and  like  a mighty  bastion  overlooks 
the  barren  wastes  of  Central  Asia.  It  is  the  culminating 
point  in  a meridional  chain,  the  Mus-tagh  or  Ice  Mountains, 
a chain  that  is  worthy  to  rank  with  the  stupendous  ranges 
which  converge  uj)on  the  Roof  of  the  World — the  Hima- 
layas, Kwen-lun,  Kara-korum,  Hindu-kush.  The  unchallenged 
pre-eminence  of  Mus-tagh-ata  over  the  peaks  which  cluster 
around  it  is  proved  by  its  name,  which  means  the  Father 
of  the  Ice  Mountains.  And  the  nanie  is  very  approjjriate  ; 
for  truly,  like  a father,  it  lifts  its  white  head  among  its  chil- 
dren, which  in  their  turn  are  all  clad  in  white  robes  of  snowy 
purity  and  sheathed  in  breastplates  of  ice.  The  silvery 
sheen  of  the  great  mountain  Hashes  like  the  gleam  of  a 
light-house  to  a vast  distance  across  the  desert  ocean.  Many 
a time  have  I gazed  wonderingly  upon  it  from  afar  off. 
Many  a month  have  I wandered  on  its  rugged  flanks.  Many 
a night  and  many  a day  have  I been,  as  it  were,  spellbound 
by  the  weird  mystery  of  its  fascinations. 

Upon  questioning  the  Kirghiz  of  Su-bashi  as  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  climbing  the  patriarch  of  the  snows,  I found  they 
were  not  so  discouraging  in  their  opinions  as  were  their 
kinsmen  in  the  inner  parts  of  the  Pamirs.  They  were  all 
quite  willing  to  accompany  me,  and  ready  to  further  my  pur- 
pose to  the  utmost  of  their  ability.  All  the  same,  they 
prophesied  that  the  attempt  would  be  a failure.  Hunters 
who  had  lost  their  way  while  pursuing  game  into  the  higher 
reaches  of  the  mountain  had  become  giddy  through  breath- 
ing the  “heavy”  air.  Even  the  agile  and  sure-footed  wild 
sheep  had  been  known  to  recoil  in  terror  from  the  brink,  of 


THROUGH  ASIA 


218 

the  icy  precipices  when  driven  out  towards  them  by  a posse 
of  hunters.  Nor  was  the  imperial  eagle  able  to  swing  him- 
self up  to  the  topmost  pinnacles ; his  wings  grew  numb  be- 
fore he  could  reach  them. 

As  a consequence  of  all  this  we  planned  a formal  and 
elaborate  campaign  against  the  giant,  and  resolved,  cost 
what  it  would,  to  conquer  him.  Our  plan  was  to  lie  in  am- 
bush and  keep  a close  watch  upon  him,  and  seize  the  first 
careless  moment — i.e.,  take  advantage  of  the  earliest  favora- 
ble days  as  regards  weather — to  deliver  our  attack.  We  de- 
cided to  establish  a third  depot  at  the  highest  possible  point, 
and  therefrom  make  our  reconnaissances  and  take  measures 
for  advancing  farther. 


CHAPTHR  XVIII 


AN  ATI'EMP'l'  TO  CLIMH  MUS-TAOH-ATA 

In  the  course  of  a long  exploring  journey  the  traveller’s 
plans  are  often  upset  by  annoying  difficulties  and  hinderances, 
causing  him  to  deviate  from  the  route  he  laid  down  before- 
hand, and  compelling  him  to  abandon  objects  which  he  had 
set  his  heart  upon  attaining.  I encountered  a reverse  of 
this  character  in  my  attempt  to  scale  Mus-tagh-ata.  It  was 
mv  desire,  as  it  was  also  my  intention,  to  climb  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  mountain,  examine  its  geological  structure,  its 
coat  of  ice-mail,  and  the  gigantic  glaciers  which  plough  their 
slow  way  down  its  rugged  sides.  But  alas!  Instead  of 
carrying  out  this  plan,  and  achieving  the  proud  conscious- 
ness of  standing  far  above  the  heads  of  all  peojdes  and 
princes  in  the  world,  and  having  five  continents  under  my 
feet,  with  only  a few  Asiatic  mountain  - peaks  above  me,  I 
was  compelled  to  return,  with  my  strength  broken  and  my 
eyes  bandaged,  and  seek  a warmer  climate. 

However,  on  the  morning  of  April  17th  I found  a pictu- 
resque troop  awaiting  me  when  I stepped  outside  my  yurt. 
It  consisted  of  half  a dozen  weather-worn  Kirghiz,  envel- 
oped in  sheepskins  and  carrying  alpen-stocks  in  their  hands, 
with  nine  yaks — big,  black,  good-natured,  phlegmatic  creat- 
ures— and  two  sheep.  Some  of  the  yaks  were  loaded  with 
the  needful  provisions — spades,  a pickaxe,  hatchets,  ropes, 
furs,  felts  and  felt  carpets,  the  photographic  apparatus,  and 
other  stores.  The  indispensable  scientific  instruments  and 
field-glasses  were  carried  bv  the  Kirghiz  in  satchels.  The 
remaining  yaks  bore  saddles  on  their  backs.  As  soon  as  we 
were  mounted,  and  had  taken  leave  of  Togdasin  Beg,  the 
caravan  put  itself  into  motion,  and  slowly  began  the  ascent. 


220 


THROUGH  ASIA 


in  a south-southeast  direction.  The  yak  is  guided  by  means 
of  a cord  drawn  through  the  cartilage  of  the  nose.  All  the 
same,  the  animal  goes  pretty  much  his  own  way,  no  matter 
how  strongly  his  rider  may  protest.  It  is  his  wont  to  march 
doggedly  on,  with  his  muzzle  close  to  the  ground,  breathing 
so  hard  that  you  can  almost  imagine  your  ears  are  buzzing 
with  the  sharp  drone  of  a steam-saw  tearing  its  way  through 
timber  some  distance  aw'ay. 

At  a place  called  Kamper-kishlak,  or  “ Old  Woman  Vil- 
lage,” we  passed  a glacier,  with  light-green  ice  in  its  crevas- 
ses, and  a gigantic  bowlder  of  gneiss,  split  in  two,  immediate- 
ly underneath  its  terminal  moraine.  According  to  tradition, 
the  place  derives  its  name  from  the  fact  that  once  when  the 
Shah  of  Shugnan  waged  war  against  the  Kirghiz,  the  latter 
all  fled,  wdth  the  exception  of  one  old  woman,  and  she  hid 
herself  between  the  two  halves  of  the  huge  piece  of  rock. 

The  ascent  w^as  very  steep,  and  nowhere  afforded  firm 
footing,  the  slopes  being  thickly  strewn  with  gneiss  blocks 
of  every  conceivable  size  and  shape.  The  mountain  is  in- 
deed built  up  almost  exclusively  of  gneiss  and  crystalline 
slates;  although  in  the  mounds  of  detritus  higher  up  I 
picked  out  fragments  of  black  porphyry  and  micaceous 
schists,  the  latter  showing  signs  of  having  been  subjected 
to  great  pressure.  I also  found  the  last-mentioned  rock  in 
solid  masses  at  the  altitude  of  16,500  feet. 

Coming  towards  evening  to  a place  that  was  free  from 
snow,  as  well  as  sheltered  from  the  wind,  we  halted  there  at 
an  altitude  of  14,560  feet,  and  pitched  our  simple  camp.  It 
consisted  merely  of  a few  felt  carpets,  supported  by  the 
alpen-stocks  and  tied  with  a rope.  Then  one  of  the  sheep 
was  slaughtered,  while  the  Kirghiz  prayed  AllaJni  ahhbar, 
bismillak  crrahi  man  errahim  !"  (God  is  great.  In  the  name 
of  God  the  Merciful,  the  Righteous!)  and  before  the  fiesh 
was  cold  it  was  plunged  into  the  melted  snow  which  filled 
the  cooking-pot.  The  fuel  with  which  our  fire  was  made 
was  nothing  better  than  yak-dung.  But  later  on  in  the 
evening  we  were  joined  by  another  Kirghiz,  who  brought  us 
two  yak  - loads  of  teresken,  and  then  we  very  soon  had  a 


C L I M B I X ( ; M l:  S - r A ( ; 1 1 - A A 


2 21 


splendid  fire  roaring  away.  /Around  it  we  gathered  to  eat 
our  plain  evening  meal,  d'he  lively  flames  darted  backward 
and  forward  like  a giddy  dancer,  now  skimming  the  lips  of 
one  of  the  spectators  with  a cociucttish  kiss,  now  singeing 
the  beard  of  this  or  the  other  frozen  Kirghiz,  in  a way  that 
gave  rise  to  a good  deal  of  merriment.  'I'he  moon  rose 
from  behind  the  shoulder  of  Mus-tagh-ata  encircled  bv  a 


MUS-TAGH-ATA  SEEN  EROM  THE  NORTH 


bright  halo  ; the  fire  gradually  died  down  ; and  we  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  just  under  the  open  sky  on  Hazrett-i-Musa’s 
(Holy  Moses’)  mountain. 

The  following  day,  April  i8th.  the  weather  was  unfavor- 
able, the  skv  being  wreathed  in  clouds;  besides  which,  it  was 
cold  and  windv.  Nevertheless,  we  made  up  our  minds  to 
go  on.  The  Kirghiz  preferring  to  walk,  we  took  only  three 
yaks  with  us  to  carry  our  belongings.  By  innumerable  sharp 
zigzag  curves  we  worked  our  way  up  the  mountain-side,  which 
grew  steeper  and  steeper  with  every  yard.  The  yaks  kept 


2 2 2 


THROUGH  ASIA 


plodding  on,  showing  extraordinary  sureness  of  foot ; but  their 
halts  were  many  and  long.  At  length  the  clouds  lifted,  and 
revealed  to  our  gaze  a panorama  for  which  the  only  appro- 
priate epithet  is  magnificent.  The  valley  of  Sarik-kol  lay 
spread  out  before  us  like  a map.  To  the  north  we  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Little  Kara-kul  and  Bulun-kul.  On  the  southwest 
the  view  was  shut  in  by  the  mountain-chains  on  each  side  of 
the  Murghab;  while  far  down  underneath  our  feet,  towards 
the  west,  the  tomb  of  Chum  Kar  Kashka  crowned  what 
appeared  to  be  a little  knoll  of  insignificant  height,  though 
we  knew  that,  seen  from  the  valley  below,  it  was  in  reality  a 
big  mountain. 

At  length  we  came  to  the  glacier  of  Yam-bulak,  and  there 
made  halt  to  rest  a while.  We  were  then  15,900  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea,  and  consequently  stood  higher  than  the 
tops  of  all  the  mountains  of  Europe.  The  glacier  moves  with 
the  majesty  of  a king  out  of  its  castle  portals — that  is  to  say, 
a deep,  wide  dislocation  of  the  strata ; but  no  sooner  does  it 
get  plenty  of  open  ground  before  it,  than  it  spreads  out  to 
twice  or  three  times  its  former  width,  at  the  same  time  orrow- 
ing  of  course  thinner.  All  its  moraines — terminal,  lateral,  new 
and  old — together  with  the  glacial  stream,  and  its  deposits  of 
steely  blue  mud — from  the  splendid  coign  of  vantage  we  occu- 
pied we  had  a bird’s-eye  view  of  them  all. 

Having  attained  the  altitude  of  17,500  feet,  we  found  water 
boiled  at  180.5°  F^hr.  (82.5°  C.),  that  the  aneroid  indicated 
15.6  inches,  and  the  thermometer  read  23.9°  Fahr.  (—  4.5°  C.). 
There  we  were  overtaken  by  a buran  so  furious  that  we  were 
compelled  to  stop  where  we  were  for  several  hours.  Even 
when  we  did  venture  to  make  a fresh  start,  we  were  obliged 
to  proceed  with  the  utmost  caution ; for  the  freshly  fallen 
snow  completely  hid  the  treacherous  cavities  and  projecting 
rocks  which  diversified  the  surface. 

When,  after  sundry  hardships  and  adventures,  we  at  length 
returned  to  camp,  we  found  pleasing  evidence  of  Fogdasin 
Beg’s  friendliness;  for  he  had  sent  us  a yurt,  together  with  a 
fresh  supply  of  jn'ovisions  and  fuel. 

y\pril  19th  we  were  visited  by  a snow-storm,  even  at  the 


C L I M B 1 N (i  M U S-T A C i H- A A 


223 


altitude  of  our  camp.  Since,  then,  it  was  evident,  we  might 
possibly  have  to  wait  some  time  for  favorable  weather,  I sent 
Kul  Mametieff  down  into  the  valley  to  bring  up  a sufficient 
supply  of  provisions  to  last  us  several  days. 

Meanwhile,  taking  Islam  Bai  and  two  of  the  Kirghiz  with 
me,  1 made  a little  excursion  to  the  edge  of  the  Yam-bulak 
glacier.  The  rest  of  the  Kirghiz,  who  the  day  before  had 
complained  of  a splitting  headache  and  feelings  of  nausea, 
were  allowed  to  stay  behind  in  camp  and  rest.  It  was  alto- 
gether a most  interesting  and  instructive  trip.  \\  e obtained 
an  accurate  topographical  chart,  profiles,  various  measure- 
ments, and  a dozen  photographic  views.  Armed  with  rope, 
ice-axes,  and  alpen-stocks,  we  started  from  the  side  of  the 
glacier,  and  ventured  some  350  yards  across  its  surface,  until 
stopped  by  a crevasse  sixty  feet  deep.  I inferred  from  certain 
protuberances  of  the  ice  about  100  feet  in  height  that  the 
minimum  vertical  thickness  of  the  glacier  was  probably  150 
to  170  feet.  During  this  venturesome  expedition  we  leaped 
over  several  yawning  crevasses,  though  not  without  observing 
the  well-known  precautions  of  ice-craft. 

That  eveniiiQ-  I determined  to  move  the  vurt  round  to  the 
southern  face  of  the  mountain,  and  make  another  attempt  to 
get  to  the  top  from  that  side.  But  my  plans  were  unexpect- 
edly thwarted;  for,  like  an  evil  spirit,  my  old  inflammation  of 
the  eyes  (iritis)  suddenly  seized  me,  causing  me  excruciating 
agony.  I applied  the  remedies  I had  with  me,  but  all  to  no 
purpose.  The  next  day  the  pain  was  so  intense  that  I was 
obliged  to  leave  my  men  and  ride  down  to  Su-bashi.  Thus 
ended  my  ambitious  hopes.  The  members  of  the  expedition 
were  paid  off,  and  the  company  dissolved.  And  Mus-tagh-ata, 
which  glittered  in  the  glorious  sunshine,  a magnificent  sight 
for  those  who  had  eyes  to  see  withal,  was  for  the  time  being 
left  to  enjoy  his  solitary  state  in  peace. 

But  despite  the  warmer  climate  and  the  rest  I granted 
myself,  the  inflammatory  symptoms  rather  increased  than  got 
better;  so  that  at  the  end  of  a couple  more  days  I decided  it 
would  be  wiser  to  go  back  to  Bulun-kul,  where  I had  left  the 
half  of  my  baggage,  with  six  horses,  in  charge  of  two  men. 


224 


THROUGH  ASIA 


When  I set  out  from  the  aul  I was  followed  by  the  sincere 
sympathies  of  all  its  inhabitants ; nay,  even  some  of  the 
Chinese  soldiers  came  to  express  their  sorrow  at  my  ill- 
fortune.  As  the  caravan  filed  off,  they  all  stood  silently  by, 
as  though  assisting  at  a funeral.  And  this  melancholy  im- 
pression was  still  further  deepened  when  at  the  end  of  about 
an  hour  we  were  overtaken  by  a band  of  soldiers,  who  had 
been  prevented  by  their  military  duties  from  coming  to  see 
me  off.  They  now  wished  me  bon  voyage,  and  escorted  me 
on  my  way  for  about  half  an  hour,  singing  songs  in  my  honor, 
but  songs  of  such  a doleful  character  that  I really  began  to 
fancy  the  caravan  was  a funeral  procession,  and  that  the  singers 
were  the  hired  mourners  and  I myself  the  corpse. 

And  in  truth  it  was  a melancholy  journey — that  which  we 
began  on  the  morning  of  April  25th.  I had  taken  strong 
doses  of  salicylic  acid  and  morphia,  and  felt  both  deaf  and 
brain-sick.  My  left  eye  was  covered  with  a bandage  totally 
impervious  to  the  light ; while  my  right  eye,  which  was  well, 
but  extremely  sensitive  to  the  light,  was  protected  by  glasses 
doubly  darkened.  In  spite  of  my  condition,  by  dint  of  riding 
ten  hours  at  a stretch,  we  accomplished  the  entire  distance  to 
Bulun-kul  in  one  day.  Upon  reaching  Little  Kara-kul  we 
were  assailed  by  a snow-storm,  which  continued  to  increase 
in  violence  as  the  day  wore  on,  so  that  by  the  time  we  arrived 
at  Bulun-kul  it  was  not  only  quite  dark,  but  the  country  was 
ajjain  clothed  in  its  winter  vestments.  Without  a moment’s 
delay  I despatched  a messenger  to  Jan  Darin,  w’ho  had  now 
returned  from  Kashgar,  begging  him  to  oblige  me  with  a 
decent  yurt.  The  answer  brought  back  was,  that  Jan  Darin 
was  drunk,  and  could  not  be  disturbed.  I had,  therefore,  to 
make  the  best  I could  of  the  miserable  yurt  of  which  I have 
before  spoken,  although  the  snow  swirled  in  through  the 
holes  in  the  sides.  Notwithstanding  this,  I intended  stojt- 
ping  there  two  or  three  days,  because  the  inflammation  con- 
tinued to  get  worse. 

But  my  plan  was  roughly  knocked  on  the  head  ; for  about 
noon  on  the  26th  a messenger  came  from  Jan  Darin,  saying 
that  if  I hadn't  gone  by  an  early  hour  on  the  following 


CL  I M B I NCx  M U S-T  AG  H-AT A 


225 


morning  he  would  help  me  on  my  way  with  his  soldiers. 
W’e  had  no  choice,  therefore,  but  to  obey  orders.  But  I will 
hasten  to  add,  in  exculpation  of  the  Chinese,  that  throughout 
the  whole  of  my  journey,  this  was  the  solitary  occasion  on 
which  I met  with  insolent  treatment  at  the  hands  of  a rude 
and  unpolished  mandarin,  for  during  the  course  of  the  suc- 


OUK  CARAVAN  IN  TIIK  VALLF.V  OF  THF  GHFIZ-DARIA 

ceeding  years  I saw  the  Chinese  character  from  a very  differ- 
ent side,  and  found  them  a truly  amiable  race  of  men. 

On  April  27th  I sent  Kul  Mametieff  back  to  Fort  Pa- 
mir. He  was  subsequently  honored  with  a medal  by  King 
Oscar  of  Sweden  and  Norwav.  In  addition  to  that,  His 
Majesty  paid  a similar  compliment  to  more  than  one  of  the 
Russian  officers  stationed  at  the  fort,  in  recognition  of  the 
distinguished  services  they  had  rendered  me ; so  that  it 
would  scarcely  surprise  me  to  learn  that  the  Russians  take 
me  for  a prince  in  disguise! 

At  Tar-bashi  (the  Head  of  the  Narrow  Passage)  we  turned 
off  eastward,  so  as  to  descend  the  deep  valley  of  the  Ghez, 
which  eats  its  way  far  into  the  heart  of  the  Mus-tagh  chain. 
I am  sorry  to  say  I know  little  about  the  road  we  followed, 
for  1 rode  with  my  eyes  almost  completely  blinded  by  band- 
ages. I can  only  say  that  we  reached  our  first  night’s  sta- 
tion, Utchkappa  (the  Three  Stone  Huts),  down  steep,  break- 
15 


226 


THROUGH  ASIA 


neck  paths.  The  next  day  we  had  to  traverse  an  extremely 
difihcult  gorge  of  the  Ghez-daria.  The  current  was  very 
strong  and  clung  close  to  the  foot  of  the  high  crags  which 
shut  in  the  valley  on  the  right.  The  path  wound  down  the 
face  of  the  almost  vertical  cliffs,  being  protected  on  the  outer 
or  river  side  by  a breastwork  of  stakes  and  poles  latticed  to- 
gether with  withes.  My  men  thought  they  would  prefer  to 
go  down  by  the  bed  of  the  stream.  But  the  leading  horses 
came  within  an  ace  of  losing  their  foothold  in  the  deep,  swift 
current ; and  that  sent  the  men  back  to  the  path.  On  we 
struggled,  slowly,  contending  against  serious  difficulties,  until 
two  of  the  horses  stumbled  and  refused  to  advance  another 
step.  This  compelled  us  to  return  once  more  to  the  river- 
bed. We  proceeded  with  the  utmost  caution,  and  finally 
succeeded  in  getting  through  the  gorge. 

I judged  it  wisest  to  trust  my  packing-cases  only  to  the 
best  of  the  horses,  and  this  necessitated  unloading  and  load- 
ing up  again,  which  wasted  a good  deal  of  time.  Each  pack- 
horse  was  taken  through  by  two  mounted  men,  who  held 
themselves  in  readiness  to  whip  him  on  if  he  happened  to 
heel  over.  It  was  a very  queer  feeling  came  over  me  when 
I moved  down  into  the  turbulent  current,  neither  seeing^  the 
bottom,  nor  yet  knowing  whether  it  was  covered  with  loose 
gravel  or  big  cobble  - stones,  whether  it  was  deep  or  shallow. 
(Jne  thing,  however,  was  imperative — namely,  to  keep  fast  to 
the  ford,  or  I should  get  a bath;  and  a bath  in  such  a place, 
seeing  that  I was  riding  with  my  feet  in  the  stirrups,  would 
have  been  dangerous,  for  only  a few  paces  distant  the  cliffs 
closed  in  upon  the  river,  and  drove  it  plunging  down  a 
cataract. 

From  that  i)oint  onward  we  crossed  and  recrossed  the 
stream  several  times,  sometimes  wading  through  fords,  some- 
times being  obliged  to  trust  ourselves  to  bridges  of  a more 
or  less  precarious  character.  One  of  these  bridges  formed 
the  prominent  feature  in  a very  picturesciue  piece  of  scenery; 
for  one  end  of  it  rested  on  a big  round  bowlder  which  choked 
the  bed  of  the  river.  Fhe  valley  descended  at  a very  steep 
inclination,  and  the  river  tumbled  down  one  cataract  after 


C L I M B 1 N ( i M U S-'r  A ( ; H - A A 


227 

another.  But  as  we  went  clown,  the  narrow  passages  of  the 
gorge,  such  as  the  one  I have  already  described,  were  choked 
with  thick  mist,  completely  shutting  out  the  prospect,  al- 
though the  bare  cliff  walls  gave  back  the  echoes  with  a sin- 
gularly penetrating  sound.  1 he  ground  was  extraordinarily 
rough  and  stony.  Gig*antic  blocks  of  gneiss  were  half  em- 
bedded in  the  stupendous  conglomerate  precipices  which 
overhung  the  path ; but  so  loosely  fixed,  that  every  moment 


TIIK  CUIFZ- DARIA  ‘ 


1 fancied  thev  must  break  away  and  crash  down  upon  our 
heads.  In  truth,  I was  considerably  relieved  when  we  had 
passed  the  last  of  these  perilous  places. 

By  this  the  temperature  had  completely  changed.  We 
now  perceived  for  the  first  time  that  the  season  was  spring. 
'I'he  minimum  during  the  previous  night  was  31.8°  Fahr. 
( -0.1°  C.).  At  mid-day  it  was  46.4°  Fahr.  (8°  C.);  by  two 
o’clock  in  the  afternoon  it  had  risen  to  52.9°  Fahr.  (i  1.6°  C.) ; 
bv  three  o’clock  to  55.4°  Fahr.  (i  3°  C.) ; by  four  o’clock  to 
58.1°  F'ahr.  (14.5°  C.);  and  by  eight  o’clock  in  the  evening  to 
59°  Fahr.  (15°  C.) ; the  temperature  steadily  rising  as  we  de- 
scended. We  rested  for  a while  at  Kouruk  - karaol  (the 
Bridge-Watch),  where  on  April  29th  the  minimum  was  as 
high  as  39.2°  Fahr.  (4°  C.). 

The  district  which  we  had  now  reached  was  in  ill  - repute, 
because  of  the  Chinese  and  Kashgarian  robber-bands,  which 


228 


THROUGH  ASIA 


infested  it.  I therefore  judged  it  prudent  to  post  sentries 
during  the  night,  with  orders  to  keep  an  eye  especially  on 
the  baggage  and  the  horses.  My  men  advised  me  to  have 
my  weapons  handy  and  ready  for  use.  But  the  night  passed 
as  quietly  as  other  nights  had  done ; the  robbers  did  not 
molest  us. 

The  following  day  we  again  had  a difficult  crossing.  One 
of  the  pack-horses,  ridden  by  Khoja  the  Sart,  stumbled  and 
fell,  and  narrowly  escaped  drowning.  In  a moment  every 
man  of  my  company  was  in  the  water,  heedless  of  clothes. 
But  it  cost  them  a vast  amount  of  labor  to  rescue  the  animal 
and  the  stores  it  carried.  Khoja  went  head  over  heels  into 
the  water,  and  got  an  involuntary  bath.  As  on  the  previous 
day,  we  were  obliged  to  cross  the  stream  time  after  time, 
sometimes  by  means  of  fords,  at  others  over  what  were  in 
many  cases  dangerous  bridges.  At  length,  however,  the  val- 
ley began  to  widen  out,  and  as  it  did  so  we  began  to  come 
across  patches  of  scrub.  At  noon  the  thermometer  showed 
66.2'  Fahr.  (19°  C.).  We  were  getting  to  lower  elevations 
and  a warmer  climate.  Everything  was  shrouded  in  a thick 
yellow  mist;  moreover,  my  eyes  pained  me  a good  deal,  so 
that  I saw  but  little  of  the  picturesque  country  we  were  pass- 
ing through. 

April  30th  was  the  last  day  we  spent  among  the  moun- 
tains. Before  the  morning  was  over  they  began  to  decrease 
rapidly  in  elevation,  till  they  were  little  better  than  insig- 
nificant hills,  and  finally  they  fell  away  and  became  lost  in 
the  distant  haze  which  hung  over  the  trumpet  - shaped  en- 
trance to  the  valley.  The  surface  grew  leveller,  and  yielded 
a good  supply  of  grass,  which  caused  the  horses  to  lose  all 
sense  of  discipline.  The  poor  animals,  whose  bellies  had 
been  sadly  pinched  during  the  journey  across  the  snowy 
mountains  and  barren  wastes  of  the  Pamirs,  snatched  greed- 
ily at  the  aj)]3etizing  pasture  as  they  went  along.  We  crossed 
three  more  small  bridges,  the  last  of  them  a jiarticularly  dan- 
gerous one.  We  narrowly  escaj^ed  losing  one  of  our  horses 
there,  which  jiut  its  foot  through  the  thin  ])lanking.  I'he 
baggage  having  been  taken  off  the  animal’s  back,  all  hands 


C L I M H I N ( i MU  S-T  A ( i H - A T A 


229 


set  to  work  to  haul  him  up  again.  That  done,  the  men 
mended  the  bridge  by  filling  up  the  hole  with  turf.  After 
that  we  left  the  Ghez-daria  on  the  left,  and  travelled  on  to 
Tash-melik  (more  correctly  Tash-balik — Stone  hish),  where 


BRIDGE  OVER  THE  GHEZ-DARI.\ 

there  was  a small  Chinese  fort,  the  commandant  of  which 
would  not  allow  us  to  proceed  until  he  had  first  seen  and  ex- 
amined my  pass.  The  last  night  of  our  journey  was  spent 
at  the  village  of  Terem  (Arable  Land),  and  on  the  evening  of 
May  I St  we  reached  Kashgar.  There  I was  warmly  welcomed 
by  my  old  friend  Mr.  Petrovsky,  Russian  consul-general,  and 
his  secretary,  Mr.  Lutsh. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


REMINISCENCES  OF  KASHGAR 

I REMAINED  fifty  days  in  Kashgar,  waiting  till  my  eyes  got 
well.  This  time  I employed  in  working  out  the  results  of 
my  journey  up  to  that  point,  in  arranging  and  tabulating  my 
observations,  and  plotting  out  my  maps.  The  rest  was  indeed 
very  welcome  — in  fact,  absolutely  necessary.  I thorough- 
ly appreciated  the  hospitality  of  my  friend’s  house,  where  I 
was  surrounded  by  all  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of 
civilization.  Consul  Petrovsky  is  the  most  amiable  man  in 
the  world,  in  every  way  a right  excellent  host.  His  intel- 
lectual conversation  was  as  instructive  as  it  was  elevating. 
For  he  is  a thorough  man  of  science  to  his  finger-tips. 
During  the  years  he  has  been  stationed  at  Kashgar  he  has 
made  many  discoveries  and  observations  of  the  greatest 
value  for  history  and  archaeology.  Some  day  he  intends  to 
publish  them  to  the  world.  His  library  contains  a selection 
of  the  best  books  that  have  been  written  on  subjects  con- 
nected with  Central  Asia.  He  has  also  a laboratory  fitted 
with  the  most  costlv  instruments  and  scientific  appliances. 
It  would  be  absolutely  impossible  to  have  a better  base  than 
Mr.  Petrovsky’s  house  for  a series  of  exploring  journeys  in 
the  interior  of  Asia. 

I have  already  described  Kashgar  and  the  vicinity  in  my 
former  book,  Genom  Khorasan  och  Turkestan.  .Suffice  it. 
therefore,  to  sav  here  that  the  old  town  stood  there  on  the 
banks  of  the  Kizil-su,  every  whit  as  gray  and  solitary  as  when 
I first  saw  it  in  1890.  I add,  however,  a few  words  about  the 
lAiropeans  and  Chinese  with  whom,  during  this  visit,  I was 
brought  into  contact. 

The  members  of  the  consulate  embraced  Mr.  Petroxsky 


Rl<: MINISCKNCHS  OF  KASlKiAR 


231 


and  his  wife,  his  secretary,  two  military  officers,  a revenue 
officer,  and  a trooj)  of  lialf  a hundred  Cossacks. 

.Adam  Ignatieff,  a Roman  Catholic  Pole,  who  went  out  to 
Kashgar  ten  years  ago  as  a missionary,  was  still  there,  a 
standing  guest  at  Mr.  Petrovsky’s  table.  He  was  a fine  old 
man,  with  a smooth-shaven  face  and  snow-white  hair,  was 
dressed  entirely  in  white,  wore  a rosary  round  his  neck  with 
a cross  dependent  from  it,  and  looked  like  a cardinal  out  of 
office.  We  used  to  rally  him  over  the  dinner-table;  but  he 
met  all  our  allusions,  even  the  most  embarrassing,  with  a jovial 
smile,  and  resented  nothing  so  long  as  he  got  his  full  num- 
ber of  drams.  The  only  person  who  put  faith  in  his  pre- 
tensions to  missionary  zeal  was  himself.  P'or  during  all  the 
ten  years  he  had  been  in  Kashgar  he  had  not  made  a single 
proselvtc;  indeed,  he  had  made  no  serious  attempt  at  con- 
version. He  boasted  that  he  had  converted  one  old  Sart 
woman  on  her  death-bed;  but  the  malicious  declared  that  the 
old  woman  was  already  dead  when  he  converted  her. 

During  the  following  winter  Adam  Ignatieff  often  used 
to  visit  me  in  the  evening;  and  many  were  the  lonely  hours 
he  thus  helped  to  shorten  by  his  conversation.  We  would 
both  sit  over  the  fire  till  well  on  into  the  night,  and  he 
would  relate  to  me  the  various  episodes  of  his  adventurous 
life.  He  told  me  how,  during  the  Polish  Rebellion,  he  had 
helped  to  hang  a Russian  priest;  for  which  deed  he  was 
banished  to  Siberia,  and  remained  there  about  thirty  years. 
I le  was  of  noble  blood,  and  belonged  to  the  family  of  Dog- 
villo.  Hut  he  was  then  living  half  a wastrel  in  Kashgar,  a 
lonely  man,  forgotten,  friendless,  with  none  to  care  for  him 
or  take  any  interest  in  him,  with  none  to  shed  a tear  over 
his  grave  when  the  end  of  his  days  should  come.  Never- 
theless, he  was  always  cheerful,  always  friendly  and  jovial, 
perfectly  contented  with  his  lot.  And  so  we  used  to  sit, 
talking  over  the  fire,  like  a couple  of  hermits. 

I also  found  in  Kashgar  another  old  friend  in  Father 
Hendricks.  He  was  in  all  respects  a remarkable  man,  who 
had  been  domiciled  in  the  town  quite  as  long  as  Adam 
Ignatieff.  A Dutchman  by  birth,  he  had  been  twenty- five 


232 


THROUGH  ASIA 


years  in  Asia,  spoke  twelve  different  languages,  and  followed 
closely  and  with  interest  the  affairs  of  the  world ; he  was,  in 
short,  a man  of  wide  culture,  endowed  with  no  small  share  of 
talent — in  this  respect  the  exact  opposite  of  Adam  Ignatieff. 
He  made  his  home  in  a Hindu  caravanserai,  a miserable 
hovel  without  windows,  and  lived  in  a state  of  the  greatest 
poverty,  apparently  long  ago  forgotten  by  his  friends  in  Eu- 
rope, for  it  was  seldom,  if  ever,  that  he  received  any  letters. 
It  was,  however,  a real  pleasure  to  talk  to  him.  He  was  both 
amusing  and  ready  witted,  sang  French  songs  with  the  same 
verve  that  he  recited  his  Latin  masses,  and  was  a thorough 
original,  if  ever  there  was  one.  To  see  him  striding  at  a 
smart  pace  through  the  Mohammedan  bazaars,  with  his  long 
cloak,  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  his  staff,  his  long  beard,  and 
his  big  spectacles,  always  put  me  in  mind  of  a gray- friar 
monk.  Solitary,  solitary,  solitary — such  was  the  burden  of 
his  life’s  song.  A solitary  man,  he  recited  punctually  every 
day  the  masses  which  none  came  to  listen  to;  solitary  he  sat 
on  the  platform  beside  the  door  of  his  hovel  and  read,  heed- 
less of  the  bustle  of  the  caravans  that  came  and  went ; soli- 
tary he  dressed  the  scanty  fare  which  his  poverty  permitted 
him  to  eat ; solitary  he  wandered  about  the  roads  of  an  even- 
ing— always  and  everywhere  a solitary,  lonely  being.  It  was 
always  a pleasure  to  me  when  I fell  in  with  him.  Many 
an  hour  we  sat  together  philosophizing  over  life,  for  I too 
was  just  as  lonely  a man  as  he. 

There  was  also  a third  missionary  in  the  town,  a Mo- 
hammedan, who  had  been  converted  to  Christianity  and 
baptized  by  the  name  of  Johannes,  or  John.  He  had  studied 
the  Koran  in  Erzerum,  in  Turkish  Armenia,  and  from  the 
minarets  of  that  city  had  cried  to  the  faithful,  '"La  illaha  il 
Alla/i,  Mohammedeh  rasnl  Ullah"  (There  is  no  Ciod  but 
Allah,  and  Mohammed  is  His  Prophet).  i\fter  being  con- 
verted to  Christianity,  he  spent  two  years  at  a mission  school 
in  Sweden.  At  the  time  of  my  visit  to  Kashgar  he  chiefly 
occupied  himself  with  translating  the  Bible  into  Turki  and 
the  dialect  of  Kashgar,  and  with  playing  Swedish  psaim 
tunes  on  a violin  in  the  eveninu'. 


REMINISCENXES  OE  KASHGAR 


233 


Such  were  the  happy  destinies  of  the  champions  of  the 
Cross  in  that  remotest  of  Chinese  cities ! I felt  truly  sorry 
for  them.  Their  energies  were  wasted,  their  labors  fruitless, 
their  lives  empty,  hard,  and  of  no  account. 

During  my  first  visit  in  Kashgar,  I had  the  good  fortune 
to  come  in  contact  with  two  pleasant  English  gentlemen — the 
famous  traveller  Captain  Younghusband,  and  Mr.  Macartney. 
The  former  had  in  the  interval  returned  to  India.  The  lat- 
ter still  dwelt  in  Kashgar,  occupying  a comfortable  house  in 
a splendid  situation  close  to  the  garden  of  Chinneh-bagh. 
On  more  than  one  occasion  he  entertained  I'ather  Hendricks 
and  myself  with  splendid  hospitality,  Mr.  Macartney  was 
the  Agent  of  the  Indian  Government  for  Chinese  affairs  in 
Turkestan.  He  had  had  a first-rate  training,  and  spoke  flu- 
ently the  principal  languages  of  Europe  and  the  Orient,  be- 
ing especially  distinguished  in  Chinese.  In  fact,  he  was  too 
good  for  his  post.  He  was  capable  of  rendering  his  country 
substantial  services  in  a more  distinguished  sphere  of  action. 

I will  now  turn  to  the  more  eminent  of  the  Chinese  with 
whom  I had  relations  during  my  stay  in  Kashgar. 

The  highest  official  in  each  of  the  nineteen  provinces  of 
China  is  the  governor;  and  with  him  are  associated  the  vice- 
governor,  the  head  of  the  provincial  treasury,  the  judge,  and 
the  procurators.  Now,  whereas  the  first  four  exercise  au- 
thority over  the  whole  of  the  province,  the  functions  of  the 
last  official,  the  procurator  or  Dao  Tai  (the  Man  who  Shows 
the  Right  Way),  are  limited  to  a smaller  district  or  subdivi- 
sion of  the  province.  For  instance,  in  the  province  of  Sin- 
chiang  (Sin-kiang),  which  embraces  the  whole  of  East  Tur- 
kestan, Hi,  a part  of  Dzungaria,  and  a part  of  Gobi,  there  are 
several  dao  tais.  Urumtchi,  the  capital  of  the  province,  has 
one;  Ak-su  has  another;  there  is  a third  at  Kashgar;  and  so 
on.  The  dao  tai's  sphere  of  authority  is  therefore  less  exten- 
sive than  the  spheres  of  his  colleagues;  but  within  his  own 
sphere  his  actual  authority  is  in  several  respects  superior  to 
theirs,  seeing  that  he  enjoys  the  power  to  check  and  regulate 
their  action,  as  well  as  to  make  representations  to  the  central 
government,  if  he  considers  them  lacking  in  the  performance 


234 


THROUGH  ASIA 


of  their  duty.  The  position  he  occupies  is  in  many  ways 
similar  to  that  which  was  occupied  by  the  Russian  provincial 
procurators  in  the  time  of  the  Empress  Catharine  IT;  but 
with  this  fundamental  difference,  that,  whereas  the  functions 
of  the  Russian  procurators  were  limited  to  protesting,  the 
Chinese  dao  tai  possesses,  under  certain  circumstances,  the 
power  to  command. 

My  friend  Shang,  Uao  Tai  of  Kashgar,  exercised  authority 
over  a very  extensive  region,  stretching  northeastward  towards 
the  boundary  of  the  procuratorship  of  Ak-su,  and  embracing 
Kashgar,  Maral-bashi,  Yarkand,  Khotan,  Keriya,  and  Cher- 
chen.  His  duties  are  principally  civil ; but  they  also  extend 
into  the  domain  of  military  affairs,  in  that  he  acts  as  pay- 
master to  the  troops  and  inspector  of  commissariat.  The 
district  of  Sarik-kol,  on  the  Eastern  Pamirs,  is  administered, 
like  the  similar  frontier  districts  of  the  Russian  and  Afghan 
Pamirs,  by  military  officers.  The  Dao  Tai  of  Kashgar  is 
able  to  exercise  a certain  measure  of  influence  upon  the  con- 
duct of  affairs  in  Sarik-kol ; for  he  is  authorized  to  give  ad- 
vice and  furnish  intelligence,  but  is  not  allowed  to  issue  direct 
commands. 

When  a young  man,  Shang  was  nothing  more  than  a sim- 
ple clerk  to  a mandarin  ; but  having  distinguished  himself  at 
the  time  of  the  first  revolt  in  Dzungaria  (1864),  he  rapidly 
mounted  the  ladder  of  promotion  till  he  attained  his  present 
high  position.  Although  no  Adonis,  he  was  from  top  to  toe 
a thoroughly  high-principled  gentleman.  On  ordinary  days 
he  was  wont  to  flit  his  saffron  yellow  body  about  in  a little 
blue  cart;  but  for  ceremonious  occasions  and  functions  of 
high  solemnity  he  came  out  in  magnificent  attire — namely,  a 
robe  of  blue  and  black  silk,  in  the  ample  folds  of  which 
golden  dragons  played  hide-and-seek,  while  golden  lions  of 
fantastic  shape  climbed  up  a bewildering  tangle  of  interlaced 
garlands.  A mystic  button  on  his  silk  skull-cap  proclaimed 
that  he  was  a dariu  or  mandarin  of  the  second  class.  To 
comjjlete  his  gala  costume,  he  wore  round  his  neck  a long 
chain  of  hard  fruit-kernels,  polished  and  carved  on  the  out- 
side. 


RKMINISCHNCKS  OR  KASHCiAR 


Upon  arriving  in  Kasligar,  one  of  my  first  duties  was  of 
course  to  go  and  pay  my  respects  to  this  high  and  infiuential 
official.  He  received  me  in  a singularly  polite  and  cordial 
fashion.  lie  lived  in  a straggling  (ofiicial  residence), 

consisting  of  a labyrinth  of  square  court-yards,  with  mulberry- 
trees  planted  in  the  middle,  and  wooden  verandas  running 
round  the  sides.  I'he  jjillars  which  suj)portcd  the  verandas 
were  decorated  with  Chinese  ideographs,  and  the  walls  of  the 
building  with  mural  paintings,  representing  for  the  most  jjart 
dragons  and  other  fantastic  animals.  The  Dao  Tai  himself 
received  me  at  the  first  door,  and  with  an  affable  smile  con- 
ducted me  as  far  as  the  audience  - chamber,  where  we  took 
our  seats  on  opposite  sides  of  a little  .square  table,  and  drank 


SIIAXG,  DAO  TAT  OI’  KASlIG.AR 

tea  together  and  smoked  out  of  silver  pipes.  Soldiei's,  armed 
with  long-shafted  halberds,  kept  watch  beside  the  door,  and 
a group  of  respectable  yellow  - skinned  functionaries,  with 
well-preserved  pigtails  and  buttons  in  their  black  silk  caps. 


THROUGH  ASIA 


236 

stood  like  a circle  of  lighted  candles  all  round  the  room,  keep- 
ing as  silent  and  motionless  as  statues  all  the  time  the  audi- 
ence lasted.  The  Dao  Tai  himself  wore  the  insignia  of  his 
lofty  dignity.  With  the  view  of  repaying  honor  with  honor, 

I had  put  on  my  best  “dress  ” suit  of  broadcloth,  and  went  to 
his  palace  riding  a horse  as  white  as  fresh -fallen  snow  and 
escorted  by  a troop  of  Cossacks. 

For  two  hours  we  conversed  together,  or  rather  competed 
which  should  e.xcel  the  other  in  paying  compliments.  The 
Dao  Tai  asked  me  how  I liked  his  tea.  I answered  Choa" 
(good),  that  being  the  only  Chinese  word  I knew.  Thereupon 
he  clapped  his  hands  and  said,  “ By  the  memory  of  my  fa- 
thers, what  a marvellously  learned  man  my  guest  is !”  A lit- 
tle later  he  told  me  that  the  river  Tarim,  which  flowed  out 
of  Lop-nor  into  the  desert,  reappeared  again  several  thousand 
li  (quarter  of  a mile)  distant,  and  formed  the  great  river 
Hwanq-ho  of  China.  At  this  I gave  him  as  good  as  I got: 
“ What  a well-informed  man  Your  Excellency  is!  You  know 
everything.” 

But  I also  let  him  hear  a little  plain  truth  as  well.  I told 
him  how  I had  been  received  at  Bulun-kul,  the  first  place  I 
entered  on  the  Chinese  side  of  the  frontier;  expressing  my 
astonishment  that  I should  have  been  treated  with  such  dis- 
courtesy in  face  of  the  pass  and  letters  of  introduction  I car- 
ried, and  declaring  my  intention  of  making  representations 
on  the  subject  in  higher  quarters.  Upon  hearing  this,  the 
Dao  Tai’s  face  clouded,  and  with  some  show  of  emotion  he 
begged  me  not  to  lodge  a complaint;  he  would  himself  teach 
Jan  Darin  a lesson.  I promised,  therefore,  that  for  that  once 
1 would  let  the  matter  drop ; for  of  course  I never  had  any 
intention  of  doing  what  I said.  But  I have  found  that  the 
only  way  to  deal  with  the  Chinese  is  to  be  positive  in  your 
statements  and  peremptory  in  your  demands  if  you  wish  to 
avoid  being  made  ridiculous  by  their  fantastic  exaggerations. 

Towards  the  close  of  our  interview  the  Dao  Tai  reminded 
me  that  Kashgar  possessed  two  chiefs — himself  and  the  Rus- 
sian consul-general.  'I'he  Mohammedans  declare  that  Mr. 
Petrovsky  is  the  true  successor  of  the  Jagatai  Khans  (who 


RKMIXISCHNCKS  OF  KASlICiAR 


ruled  over  Kash<^ar  from  the  death  of  Jenghiz  Khan  to  past 
the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century).  He  pointed  out  that, 
since  I had  taken  up  my  quarters  fora  time  with  the  Russian 
chief,  it  would  only  be  right  that  I should  also  grant  his  Chi- 
nese colleague  the  honor  of  entertaining  me  for,  at  any  rate, 
a few  days.  I thanked  him  very,  very  much  for  the  honor, 
but  declined. 

The  next  day  the  F)ao  Tai  returned  my  visit,  coming  with 
all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  Oriental  disj)lay.  At  the 
head  of  the  jtrocession  rode  a herald,  who  at  every  fifth  step 
sounded  a gigantic  gong.  He  was  followed  by  several  men 
armed  with  switches  and  whips,  with  which  they  dusted  the 
jackets  of  everybody  who  had  not  the  good  sense  to  get  out 
of  their  way.  'I'he  great  man  himself  rode  in  a little  covered 
cart,  with  three  windows  and  two  high  wheels,  drawn  by  a 
mule,  which  was  shaded  by  an  awning,  held  up  by  rods  fixed 
to  the  shafts.  On  both  sides  of  this  state  chariot  walked 
attendants  bearing  huge  parasols  and  lemon-colored  stand- 
ards, inscribed  with  Chinese  ideograjjhs  in  black  ink.  The 
rear  of  the  procession  was  brought  up  by  a troop  of  soldiers, 
mounted  on  beautiful  white  horses,  but  wearing  such  fantastic 
uniforms  as  would  have  astounded  even  Dore. 


CHAPTER  XX 


A CHINESE  DINNEK-PARTY 

I CANNOT  part  from  my  Chinese  friends  in  Kashgar  with- 
out adding  a brief  account  of  a Chinese  dinner-party  which  I 
shall  never  forget.  I had  scarcely  recovered  from  dining  at 
the  house  of  Tsen  Daloi,  a kind  of  mayor  of  the  city,  when 
I had  the  honor  to  be  in\ited,  along  with  the  staff  of  the 
Russian  consulate,  to  a similar  function  at  the  palace  of  the 
l)ao  Tai. 

I recollect  something  about  an  ancient  Greek  deity  who 
swallowed  his  own  offspring.  I ha\e  read  in  Persian  legend 
about  the  giant  Zohak,  who  devoured  two  men’s  brains  every 
day  at  a meal ! I have  heard  rumors  of  certain  African  sav- 
ages who  invite  missionaries  to  dinner  and  give  their  guests 
the  place  of  honor  inside  the  pot.  I have  been  set  agape  by 
stories  of  monstrous  big  eaters,  who  at  a single  meal  could 
dispose  of  broken  ale-bottles,  open  penknives,  and  old  boots. 
But  what  are  all  these  things  as  compared  with  a Chinese 
dinner  of  state,  with  its  six-and-forty  courses,  embracing  the 
most  extraordinary  products  of  the  animal  and  vegetable 
worlds  it  is  possible  to  imagine?  For  one  thing,  to  mention 
no  more,  you  need  to  be  blessed  with  an  extraordinarily  fine 
a])petite — or  else  be  a Chinaman — to  appreciate  smoked  ham 
dripping  with  molasses. 

Wdien  a Chinaman  issues  invitations  to  dinner,  he  sends 
out  one  or  two  days  beforehand  a tiny  card  of  invitation  con- 
tained in  a huge  envelope.  If  you  accept  the  invitation  you 
are  supposed  to  keejj  the  card ; if  you  have  not  time — that 
is,  if  you  decline — you  are  exj)ected  to  send  it  back.  If  the 
banquet  is  ap])ointed  for  twelve  o’clock,  you  need  not  go  be- 
fore 2 I’.M.  .Should  you,  however,  ajjpear  punctually,  you  will 


A CHINHSK  mXXKR- PARTY 


239 

find  your  host  takini^  his  mid-day  siesta,  and  see  neither 
"uests,  attendants,  nor  signs  of  dinner.  \\  hen  things  are 
sufficiently  advanced  in  your  host’s  house,  he  sends  off  an- 
other messenger,  who  comes  and  shows  you  his  masters  call- 
ing-card. This  is  to  be  interj)retcd  as  a signal  that  you  may 
now  begin  to  dress  yourself,  though  you  need  not  bustle 
about  it. 

W’e  too  of  the  consulate  made  a truly  gorgeous  show  as 
we  rode  in  procession  to  the  great  man’s  jjalace.  I he  ])lace 
of  honor  at  the  head  of  the  procession  was  filled  by  a Sart 
from  W est  I'urkestan,  the  aksakal  (chief)  of  all  the  merchants, 
subjects  of  Russia,  who  dwelt  in  Kashgar.  He  wore  a red 
velvet  khalat  (coat),  decorated  with  two  or  three  Russian  gold 
medals.  Close  behind  him  rode  a Cossack,  carrying  the  silk 
banner  of  the  consulate,  red  and  white,  with  a little  blue  cross 
stitched  diagonally  across  the  corner.  Consul-general  Petrov- 
sky and  I rode  in  a sort  of  landau,  escorted  by  two  officers 
and  by  .Adam  Ignatieff,  in  the  long  white  coat  with  the  cross 
and  rosary  round  his  neck.  Last  came  a dozen  Cossacks  in 
white  parade  uniforms,  curbing  in  their  snorting  horses  with 
a tight  rein. 

Thus  arrayed  in  holiday  magnificence,  we  rode,  under  a 
broiling  hot  sun,  at  a gentle  jiace  through  the  narrow,  dusty 
lanes  of  Kashgar,  across  the  market-place  of  Righistan,  with 
its  hundreds  of  tiny  stalls,  shaded  by  thatched  roofs,  each  sup- 
ported bv  a slanting  pole,  past  mosques,  madrasas  (Mohamme- 
dan theological  colleges),  and  caravanserais,  across  the  “ flea  ” 
bazaar,  where  old  clothes  are  on  sale,  coming  occasionally 
into  collision  with  a caravan  of  camels  or  a string  of  donkeys 
laden  with  small  casks  of  water,  and  entered  at  length  the 
Chinese  quarter  of  the  city,  full  of  quaint  shops,  with  up- 
cuiiing  roofs,  painted  dragons,  and  red  advertisement  signs. 
Finally  we  drove  in  at  the  cjreat  oates  of  the  Dao  Tai’s  yamen 
(residence),  and  were  there  received  by  His  E.xcellency  in 
person,  surrounded  by  a band  of  beardless  and  wrinkled 
military  attendants  dressed  in  their  gayest  attire. 

We  had  not  got  further  than  the  preliminary  “appetizer” 
when  the  presence  of  .Adam  Ignatieff  started  His  E.xcellency 


240 


THROUGH  ASIA 


off  on  the  subject  of  the  missionary  activity  of  Europeans  in 
China.  He  spoke  in  terms  of  great  admiration  of  the  Chris- 
tian missionaries,  praising  their  self-abnegation  and  disinter- 
ested zeal  for  the  well-being  of  their  fellow-men  ; but,  speak- 
ing with  marked  emphasis,  he  went  on  to  add  that  he  felt 
bound  to  look  upon  them  as  the  authors  and  instigators  of 
discord,  setting  members  of  the  same  family  at  variance,  un- 
dermining the  time-honored  ordinance  of  domestic  subordi- 
nation, dividing  the  population  into  two  hostile  camps.  I 
ventured  to  remind  him  of  the  murder  of  two  Swedish  mis- 
sionaries in  Sung-po,  of  which  I had  just  heard;  but  the  Uao 
Tai  professed  total  ignorance  of  the  affair. 

Our  host  then  conducted  us  and  his  Chinese  guests  to  a 
little  pavilion  in  the  garden,  where  dinner  was  to  be  served. 
Chinese  etiquette  prescribes  that  the  host  shall  touch  his 
forehead  with  the  cup  each  guest  drinks  out  of,  and  thereupon 
present  it  to  him;  similarly  with  the  chopsticks  each  guest 
eats  with.  The  Dao  Tai  also  shook  each  chair,  to  prove  that 
it  was  in  a sound  condition,  and  passed  his  hand  over  the  seat 
as  if  to  brush  away  the  dust.  This  performance  over,  we 
took  our  seats  round  the  big,  red,  lacquered  table.  Ne.xt 
came  in  a string  of  servants,  each  bearing  a little  round 
porcelain  dish  with  some  preparation  of  food  upon  it.  They 
put  down  the  dishes  along  the  centre  of  the  table.  There 
were  dozens  of  them ; and  the  first  supply  was  followed  by 
others,  time  after  time.  In  front  of  each  guest  stood  still 
smaller  dishes,  containing  spices,  sauces,  and  soy. 

If  the  guests  neglected  to  help  themselves,  the  host  occa- 
sionally sent  them  portions  of  the  delicacies  which  lined  his 
own  dishes — such  as  the  skin,  fins,  and  cartilage  of  different 
varieties  of  fish  found  in  the  seas  and  rivers  of  the  Chinese 
empire,  fungi,  salted  mutton  fat  cut  into  long  strips,  lizards 
(salamanders),  ham  with  a great  variety  of  widely  different 
adjuncts,  besides  a multitude  of  strange  prei)arations,  the  real 
constituents  and  names  of  which  remained  mysteries  to  me. 
As  for  tasting  them,  I really  had  no  confidence  in  their  sus- 
picious appearance,  still  less  in  the  rancid  odors  they  gave  off. 
The  culminating  triumj)!!  of  the  feast  was  smoked  ham  in 


A CHIXHSK  DINNKR-PARTV 


241 


molasses,  washed  clown  with  tea  and  Chinese  brandy,  strong 
and  boiling  hot.  The  greater  part  of  the  numerous  dishes 
served  at  the  bancjuet  had  been  brought  from  China  proper, 
and  consecjuently,  owing  to  the  vast  distance,  at  a very  con- 
siderable cost.  Kvidentlv  His  Hxcellencv,  who  at  ordinarv 

✓ ^ 

times  lived  very  plainly  himself,  was  desirous  to  show  us 
every  mark  of  respect.  But  I am  sorry  to  say  we  scarcely 
did  justice  to  the  skill  of  the  Chinese  cuisine,  although  a 
Brillat  - Savarin  would  no  doubt  have  gone  into  raptures 
over  it. 

The  only  person  who  worthily  upheld  the  honor  of  Europe 
was  Adam  Ignatieff ; but  he  did  wonders,  e.xciting  the  amaze- 
ment of  the  rest  of  us,  and  even  the  admiration  of  the 
Chinese  themselves.  With  jjunctilious  conscientiousness  he 
partook  of  every  one  of  the  forty-six  courses,  and,  with  the 
rosary  still  round  his  neck  and  the  cross  on  his  breast,  drank 
seventeen  cups  of  brandy,  stuff  which  to  my  throat  was  as 
hot  and  burning  as  sulphuric  acid  poured  upon  iron-filings. 
And  at  the  end  of  the  three  hours  that  the  bancpiet  lasted 
he  rose  every  whit  as  sober  as  when  he  took  his  seat  at  the 
begin  ning. 

The  conclusion  I came  to  about  Chinese  state  banejuets 
was  that  you  recjuire  a certain  amount  of  time  to  become 
accustomed  to  the  many  unfamiliar  dishes  which  are  put 
before  you.  All  the  same,  several  of  them  were  excellent, 
some  even  quite  delicious.  Undoubtedly  the  most  delicious 
of  all  was  the  soup  made  from  the  edible  nests  of  the  swallow, 
or,  more  correctly,  swiftlet — a dish  which  is  seldom  served  in 
this  far-off  region  because  of  its  extremely  high  price. 

On  one  of  the  walls  there  were  painted  two  or  three  black 
flourishes.  I inquired  what  they  signified,  and  was  told  they 
meant  “ Drink,  and  tell  racy  stories.”  There  was  no  need  for 
any  such  admonition,  for  the  spirit  which  reigned  over  the 
company  was  so  hilaricrus,  and  we  transgressed  so  wantonly 
against  the  strict  rules  of  Chinese  etiquette,  that  the  Dao  Tai 
and  his  compatriots  must  surely  have  blushed  for  us  a score 
of  times  had  not  their  skins  been  from  infancy  as  yellow  as 
sun-dried  haddocks. 

16 


242 


THROUGH  ASIA 


We  were  entertained  all  through  the  dinner  by  the  melo- 
dies of  a Sart  orchestra,  consisting  of  drums,  flutes,  and 
singers;  while  the  monotonous  music  was  occasionally  en- 
livened by  a couple  of  dancing  boys,  as  though  we  were  not 
dizzy  enough  without  their  gyrations. 

As  soon  as  the  last  of  the  six-and-forty  courses  had  disap- 
peared, the  guests,  following  the  rigorous  law  of  custom,  in- 
stantly rose  to  take  their  leave.  That  moment  was  one 
which  I had  long  been  anxiously  waiting  for ; for  I was  dying 
for  a cigar  and  a glass  of  sherry  with  iced  water,  to  banish 
the  recollection  of  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  banquets  it 
has  ever  been  my  lot  to  be  present  at. 

As  we  drove  home,  the  streets,  the  market,  the  bazaars 
were  silent  and  empty.  The  only  persons  we  saw  were  a 
few  solitary  wanderers  — a dervish  or  a leprous  beggar. 
The  sun  set  behind  the  aiiy  contours  of  the  Terek-davan 
pass.  The  twilight  lasted  only  just  long  enough  to  make 
the  bare  announcement  that  a new  night  was  approaching. 
Then  the  Orient  lay  down  and  dreamed  again  on  its  own 
grave. 

I shall  not  easily  forget  the  many  happy  hours  I spent  in 
Consul  Petrovsky’s  society.  It  is  always  a pleasure  to  me 
to  go  over  them  again  in  my  thoughts.  P'or,  as  I have 
already  said,  he  was  really  an  extraordinary  man,  both  in  the 
matter  of  experience  and  general  culture.  I owe  him  a very 
deep  debt  of  gratitude,  not  only  for  his  unstinted  hospitalit}' 
but  also  for  the  extremely  valuable  advice  he  gave  me,  drawn 
from  the  storehouse  of  his  wide  experience.  He  has  lived 
twelve  years  in  Kashgar,  and  no  man  possesses  a more  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  that  region  than  he  does.  To  many  it 
may  seem  like  transportation  for  a well-educated  man  to  have 
to  spend  so  many  of  the  best  years  of  his  life  in  a place  like 
Kashgar.  But  it  was  nothing  of  the  sort  to  Mr.  Petrovsky. 
1 le  had  learned  to  like  the  place  ; and  he  had  an  inexhaustible 
fund  of  interest  in  its  historical  and  archmological  treasures 
which  he  had  unearthed.  I'here  was  one  thing  about  Mr. 
Petrovsky  which  had  for  me  an  especial  attraction.  He  was 
always  cheerful,  always  in  excellent  good  humor;  for,  when 


A CHINHSH  l)INNi:R-r ARTY 


243 


you  come  to  think  of  it,  what  is  there  that  can  give  greater 
or  truer  pleasure  than  to  associate  with  people  who  see  life 
and  the  world  in  bright  colors,  and  are  perfectly  contented 
with  the  lot  destiny  has  shaped  for  them?  At  the  same  time 
he  was  both  philosopher  and  critic.  With  biting  wit  and 
scathing  irony  he  would  lash  the  minor  follies  of  the  world, 
more  especially  everything  that  savored  of  toadyism  and 
servility.  Throughout  all  my  travels  I have  met  no  man 
who  made  a deeper  or  more  real  impression  upon  me  than 
Mr.  P etrovsky;  nor  is  there  any  1 would  so  gladly  meet  again 
and  yet  again. 

In  a word.  I had  a splendid  time  of  it  in  Kashgar.  1 was 
quartered  in  a cosey  little  room  in  a pavilion  in  the  consulate 
iiarden,  and  after  breakfast  used  to  stroll  backward  and  for- 
ward  under  the  shady  mulberry  and  j)lane  trees,  along  a ter- 
race which  commanded  a wide  view  of  the  desolate  regions 
through  which  I was  shortly  to  journey  on  my  way  to  the  I'ar 
bAst.  I had  constant  company  in  a colony  of  swallows,  which 
had  built  their  nests  under  the  projecting  eaves,  and  which 
were  quite  at  home,  dying  freely  in  and  out  of  the  open  doors 
and  windows,  for,  the  summer  air  being  warm,  the  doors  and 
windows  stood  wide  open  all  day  and  all  night  long.  On 
Easter  morning  I was  awakened  by  the  clear,  melodious  echoes 
of  a church  bell,  which  the  day  before  had  arrived  from  Na- 
rynsk,  and  was  hung  in  the  chapel  of  the  Russian  consulate. 
1 spent  my  time  there  working  all  dav,  and  wrote  two  or  three 
geographical  papers.  Altogether,  it  was  in  every  way  a de- 
lightful existence,  and  just  suited  me  down  to  the  ground.  I 
heard  the  wind  whispering  in  the  tops  of  the  plane-trees. 
What  it  really  said  I knew  not ; but  I loved  to  dream  that  it 
was  bringing  me  greetings  from  home.  Little  did  I know 
then  that  I had  still  three  whole  years  of  hard  travel  before 
me  in  the  heart  of  Asia! 

My  life  was,  however,  anything  but  solitary.  Apart  from 
the  staff  of  the  consulate,  the  place  swarmed  with  Orientals 
— Sarts  and  Kirghiz — who  came  in  and  out  on  business  or 
pleasure.  Then  there  was  a crowd  of  Mohammedan  ser- 
vants, and  a Chinese  interpreter,  to  say  nothing  of  hens  and 


244 


THROUGH  ASIA 


chickens  to  the  number  of  three  hundred,  turkeys,  geese,  and 
ducks,  a monkey,  four  parrots,  and  more  than  a dozen  dogs. 
I was  on  good  terms  with  the  whole  menagerie,  with  the  sole 
exception  of  the  monkey.  His  favor  I could  not  succeed  in 
winning,  even  when  I resorted  to  such  tempting  delicacies  as 
apples  and  pears. 

During  my  seven  weeks’  sta}'  in  Kashgar  I often  discussed 
my  plans  of  travel  with  Mr.  Petrovsky,  especially  how  my 


GARDEN’  OF  THE  RUSSIAN  CONSULATE  IN  KASHGAR 

journeys  ought  to  be  arranged,  so  that  I might  visit  each 
region  in  the  season  most  favorable  for  reaping  a successful 
harvest  of  observations.  The  result  of  our  conversations  was 
a total  alteration  of  the  original  idea  with  which  I left  lui- 
rope.  Instead  of  exploring  all  the  regions  I had  set  my  mind 
upon  in  one  continuous  and  unbroken  journey,  as  I had  at 
first  intended,  I decided  to  carry  out  my  jnirpose  in  a series 
of  longer  or  shorter  expeditions,  all  starting  from  Kashgar  as 
a centre.  By  that  means  I should  be  able  to  carry  my  obser- 
vations to  a j)lace  of  safety  as  1 made  them,  to  develop  my 
ph()togra}ihic  plates,  pack  and  send  off  home  my  collection.s, 


A Cl  1 INKS K I )INN HR-PARTY 


245 


as  well  as  have  an  excellent  base  at  which  to  make  prepara- 
tions for  each  fresh  expedition, 

I intended  my  first  journey  to  be  to  Lop-nor,  that  being 
the  object  upon  which  my  hearc  was  most  set.  Hut  in  the 
beginning  of  June  the  weather  underwent  a sudden  change. 
Summer  -the  .Asiatic  summer — was  upon  us  almost  before 
we  were  aware  of  it.  The  sky  glowed  like  a gigantic  furnace. 
'Pile  temperature  rose  to  100.4°  f'^hr.  (38°  C.)  in  the  shade; 
the  black  bulb  insolation  thermometer  showed  150.8°  (66°  C.). 
'I'he  queen  of  the  night  was  powerless  to  infuse  coolness  into 
the  superheated  atmosphere  of  PAst  'I'urkestan.  .And  every 
afternoon  the  desert  wind  blew  in  across  the  ancient  capital 
of  Yakub  Heg,  dry,  burning,  impregnated  with  fine  dust,  fill- 
ing the  streets  with  a stifling,  impenetrable  haze.  .And  as 
the  summer  advanced,  the  heat  would  increase,  as  well  as  grow 
more  intense  the  nearer  we  travelled  towards  the  middle  of 
the  continent.  I thought  of  the  superheated  atmosphere, 
heavily  charged  with  dust,  vibrating  above  the  dunes  of  drift- 
sand ; 1 thought  of  the  whirlwinds  which  every  afternoon 
drive  up  and  down  the  banks  of  the  Tarim ; I thought  of  the 
1000  miles  of  long,  difficult  marches  across  the  unending, 
waterless  deserts,  and — I shuddered.  It  was  only  the  other 
day,  as  it  were,  that  I had  been  fix  ing  in  nearly  forty  degrees 
(Fahr.  and  C.)  of  frost  high  up  on  the  Pamirs.  I should  be 
all  the  more  sensitive  to  the  burnimj  heat  of  the  desert.  .At 
the  eleventh  hour,  therefore,  I resolx'ed  to  spend  the  summer 
in  the  higher  regions,  and  continue  my  observations  in  the 
PAstern  Pamirs,  and  wait  for  the  winter  or  the  spring  before 
starting  for  Lop-nor. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


FROM  KASHGAR  TO  IGHIZ-VAR 

W'e  left  Kashgar  on  the  evening  of  June  21st,  ICS94.  The 
caravan  consisted  of  half  a dozen  pack-horses,  laden  with  pro- 
visions, instruments,  khalats  (Kirghiz  coats),  cloth,  colored 
handkerchiefs,  and  bag -caps,  intended  as  presents  for  the 
Kirghiz;  these  articles  being  valued  among  them  almost  as 
much  as  money.  Besides  these  things,  I had  my  tent-bed, 
winter  clothing,  felts,  weapons,  and  ammunition.  The  only 
reading  I took  with  me  consisted  of  certain  scientific  books, 
and  half  a year’s  issue  of  a Swedish  journal,  as  old  as  the 
hills,  but  none  the  less  delightful  on  that  account,  when  ev- 
ery line  conjured  up  dear  old  Sweden  before  my  mind’s  eye. 

My  companions  were  the  Evangelical  missionary  Johannes  ; 
Islam  Bai,  from  Osh  in  F'ergana,  the  successor  of  Rehim  Bai ; 
the  Taranchi  Daod  (David)  from  Kulja,  who  acted  as  my  in- 
terpreter of  Chinese ; and  Ekbar-khoja,  caravan  (^^^.y/^OHader), 
from  k'eroana.  It  was  from  the  last  named  I hired  my  horses. 
In  addition,  I was  to  be  provided  every  day  with  two  Kir- 
ghiz guides,  to  point  out  the  road.  I'he  Dao  I ai’s  good  of- 
fices exceeded  all  exjjectation.  Not  only  did  he  give  me  two 
big  bright-colored  letters  of  introduction  of  a general  char- 
acter, he  also  supplied  me  with  an  official  proclamation  to  the 
commanders  of  Sarik-kol  and  Pagharma,  to  the  effect  that  I 
was  of  a rank  eciuivalent  to  a mandarin  of  “ the  second  but- 
ton,” and  was  accordingly  to  be  received  and  treated  as  such. 
In  sharp  contrast  to  their  former  behavior  towards  me,  the 
Chinese  local  authorities  were  now  anxious  to  do  all  in  their 
power  to  serve  me. 

'Phe  sun’s  rays  were  still  very  hot,  although  it  was  nearing 
sunset,  when  the  caravan  moved  off  between  the  poplars  and 


FROM  KASIKFAR  TO  KiHIZ-VAR 


247 


willows  which  line  the  broad  hiu;h-road,  one  of  the  great  pub- 
lic works  of  Yakub  Beg.  It  being  market-day,  the  road  was 
enlivened  with  a brisk  traffic.  There  were  mandarins  of  dif- 
ferent “ buttons,"  driving  along  in  their  little  blue  carts,  each 
drawn  by  a mule  bedi/.ened  with  trappings  and  bells;  there 
were  small  troops  of  Chinese  officers  and  soldiers  in  gay  uni- 
forms, all  mounted.  But  not  the  least  striking  features  were 
the  huge,  picturescpie  arbas  (carts)  crowded  with  .Sarts  or 
Chinese  on  their  way  to  Vanghi-hissar  or  Yarkand.  F^ach 
vehicle  was  arched  over  with  a tunnel-like  roof  of  straw,  and 
<lrawn  by  four  horses,  hung  all  over  with  bells  of  various  sizes; 
one  horse  being  harnessed  between  the  shafts,  the  other  three 
a considerable  distance  in  front,  pulling  by  means  of  long, 
roughlv  made  roj)es.  'I'hese  clumsy  but  serviceable  vehicles 
are  the  diligences  of  Iiast  'I'urkestan.  Bv  them,  for  the  e\- 
tremely  modest  fare  of  ten  Kashgar  tengeh  (about  2s.  y/.), 
you  can  ride  all  the  way  from  Kashgar  to  Yarkand,  a distance 
of  four  long  days  of  travel.  WT  met  one  caravan  of  mer- 
chandise after  another.  Along  the  sides  of  the  roads  were 
swarms  of  beggars  and  crip|)les  of  every  kind  and  degree, 
water-sellers  with  their  big  earthen-ware  jars,  bakers  and  fruit- 
dealers  displaying  their  wares  on  tiny  stalls;  while  a swarm 
of  sun -browned  urchins  j^addled  in  the  muddy  water  that 
stagnated  in  the  ditches  by  the  road-side.  \Ve  passed  a line 
of  saints’  tombs;  the  monument  which  the  Russian  consul- 
general,  Mr.  Petrovsky,  erected  in  1887  to  the  memory  of  the 
murdered  .Adolf  Schlagintweit,  now  undermined  by  the  spring 
floods;  and  Yakub  Beg’s  ruined  castle  of  Dovlet-bagh  (the 
Garden  of  Riches).  \\*e  crossed  the  Kizil-su,  a reddish-brown 
mud  stream,  crawling  underneath  the  double-arched  bridge, 
h'inally,  leaving  the  Chinese  town,  A’^anghi-shahr,  on  the  left 
hand,  we  struck  the  desolate,  lifeless  country,  which  stretched 
away  southward  and  eastward,  flat  and  boundless,  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  see.  By  that  time,  nine  o’clock  in  the  evening, 
it  was  quite  dark.  \Ve  therefore  stopped  in  the  village  of 
Yiggdeh-arik.  and  rested  and  took  our  suppers,  till  the  moon 
should  get  up.  It  was  two  o’clock  in  the  morning  when  we 
arrived  at  Yappchan,  the  object  of  our  first  day’s  march. 


248 


THROUGH  ASIA 


On  June  22c!  the  temperature  was  so  high  (91.6°  Fahr.  or 
33.1°  C.,  at  I P.M.),  that  we  preferred  to  stay  in  the  shade; 
but  towards  evening  it  grew  cooler,  and  we  resolved  to  start 
again.  We  had  not  advanced  very  far  when  we  were  met  by 
a beg,  followed  by  two  attendants.  He  had  been  sent  by  the 
amban  (Chinese  governor)  of  Yanghi-hissar,  bearing  greetings 
from  his  master,  with  expressions  of  welcome  into  his  district. 
He  was  at  the  same  time  ordered  to  furnish  me  with  pro- 
visions, and  do  everything  that  lay  in  his  power  to  help  me  in 
my  journey.  After  escorting  us  a piece  of  the  way,  the  beg 
rode  back  again,  in  order  to  find  out  and  get  ready  a suitable 
place  for  tea.  The  avenues  of  trees  and  cultivated  fields  be- 
came more  and  more  interspersed  with  belts  of  sand  as  we 
advanced.  Two  hours  after  leaving  Yappchan  I saw  sand- 
dunes  nearly  twenty  feet  high.  They  stretched  from  north- 
west to  southeast  and  from  north  to  south;  but  were  so  over- 
grown with  vegetation  that  they  offered  no  impediments  to 
traffic. 

After  stopping  a short  time  for  tea  in  the  village  of  Sogu- 
luk,  where  a party  of  Chinese  were  making  a fearful  hubbub, 
we  continued  our  jouniGy  in  the  dark  towards  Yanghi-hissar, 
and  arrived  there  early  the  next  morning.  An  apartment 
had  been  allotted  to  us  in  the  Hindu  caravanserai ; and  the 
caravan  created  quite  a commotion  when  it  filed  in  at  the 
gate,  for  all  the  guests  of  the  “ hotel  ” were  sleeping  in  the 
court-yard  under  the  open  sky. 

Later  on  that  same  morning,  June  23d,  I was  awakened  by 
a mandarin  of  inferior  rank,  who  brought  fresh  greetings  and 
protestations  of  eternal  friendship  from  the  amban,  together 
with  a sheep,  two  pullets,  a sack  of  wheat,  another  of  maize,  a 
bundle  of  grass,  and  a fagot  of  firewood.  All  day  long  I had 
three  begs  sitting  outside  my  door,  ready  to  run  my  errands 
at  the  slightest  hint.  And  in  this  friendly  spirit  1 continued 
to  be  treated  by  the  amban  during  the  whole  of  the  forty- 
eight  hours  I remained  in  his  town. 

In  return  for  his  obliging  kindness,  I jjresented  him  with 
a revolver  and  a knife.  I hereupon  he  sent  me  a complete 
Chinese  dinner,  consisting  of  a number  of  remarkable  but 


FROM  KASHGAR  TO  IGHIZ-YAR 


249 


delicious  dainties,  arranged  on  dishes  and  in  tiny  cups, 
grouped  round  a whole  roasted  ])ig,  which  was  placed  on  a 
big  tray  with  a leg  to  it.  At  the  same  time  he  expressed  his 
regret  that,  being  indisposed,  he  could  not  give  himself  the 
honor  of  helj)ing  me  to  consume  the  good  things  he  had 
sent,  d'his  message  furnished  me  with  the  welcome  oppor- 
tunity to  reply  that,  as  1 was  cpiite  unable  to  do  justice  to 
such  a bounteous  sj^read  all  by  myself,  I felt  called  U])on  to 
send  it  back  to  him.  h'or  1 strongly  susjjected  that  all  these 
unusual  attentions  were  merely  an  artifice  to  put  me  un- 
der such  strong  obligations  of  gratitude  towards  the  astute 
amban,  as  almost  to  compel  me  to  conform  to  his  wishes. 
His  real  object  was  to  turn  me  aside  from  the  route  I had 
chosen  for  getting  up  to  the  high  plateau — namely,  the  glens 
of  Keng-kol  and  d'ar-bashi.  That  route  lay  through  his  dis- 
trict; and  it  ran  counter  to  the  wishes  of  his  worship  the 
amban  that  1 should  travel  through  the  country  over  which 
lie  exercised  rule.  He  feared,  and  with  justice,  that  I should 
map  it  out,  and  so  open  it  up  to  European  travellers,  from 
whose  presence  it  had  hitherto  been  tolerably  free.  Indeed, 
he  directly  advised  me  to  follow  the  route  via  Yarkand, 
alleging  that  the  mountain- torrents  were  now  so  greatly 
swollen  that  I should  run  very  serious  risk,  and  if  my  bag- 
gage were  to  suffer  injury  or  get  lost,  he  would  be  held  re- 
sponsible for  it  by  the  Dao  Tai. 

Meantime  I had  learned  from  other  quarters  that  donkey- 
caravans  had  actually  crossed  the  torrents.  Moreover,  the 
time  of  year  was  the  reverse  of  favorable  for  going  all  the 
way  round  by  Yarkand,  where  pestilence  always  rages  in  the 
summer.  When  the  amban  learned  that  it  was  still  my  in- 
tention to  pursue  my  original  plans,  he  sent  offering  to  sup- 
ply me  with  guides.  Then,  finding  no  other  pretext  for  keep- 
ing up  communications  with  me,  he  inquired  the  best  way 
to  proceed  in  order  to  make  water  run  uphill  for  purposes 
of  irrigation.  I replied  to  his  inquiry  by  making  a paper 
model  of  a windmill,  and  adding  explanations  of  its  purpose 
and  the  way  to  use  it. 

On  the  outskirts  of  Yanghi-hissar  I noted  the  first  indi- 

O 


250 


THROUGH  ASIA 


cations  of  the  proximity  of  a mountainous  country,  in  cer- 
tain minor  irregularities  of  the  ground.  For  example,  a 
narrow  ridge,  about  half  a mile  long  and  from  6o  to  8o  feet 
high,  stretched  away  eastward  from  the  town.  It  was  so 
evenly  and  regularly  formed  that  it  might  easily  have  been 
mistaken  for  an  old  fortified  wall  or  rampart  had  it  not  been 
built  up  of  sand  and  conglomerate.  On  the  north  of  this 
ridge  lay  the  greater  part  of  the  town,  with  its  houses  and 
bazaars  embowered  in  gardens.  On  the  south  of  it  there 
was  nothing  more  than  a single  row  of  clay  huts  with  low 
flat  roofs.  Along  the  foot  of  the  ridge  was  the  cemetery, 
ever}’  tomb  being  surmounted  by  a small  dome.  When  the 
sun  was  at  its  fiercest,  the  place  gave  off  the  offensive  smell 
of  a charnel-house. 

But  the  prospect  from  the  town  was  both  fine  and  exten- 
sive. Mu.s-tagh-ata  shut  in  the  southwest  like  a steel-blue 
wall,  its  white  battlements  inviting  us  to  cooler  climes.  Be- 
tween Yanghi-hissar  and  Mus-tagh-ata  the  face  of  the  coun- 
try was  dotted  with  low  hills.  But  in  the  opposite  quarters — 
that  is,  towards  the  east  and  north — there  was  nothina:  but 
the  desert,  as  level  and  unbounded  as  the  ocean.  The  town 
possessed  nothing  whatever  to  interest  a stranger,  its  few 
mosques  and  madrasas  (theological  colleges)  being  totally 
destitute  of  architectural  pretensions.  One  of  the  latter  was 
built,  I was  told,  sixty  years  ago  by  Halim  Akhun.  Its  fa- 
cade, ornamented  with  blue  and  green  tiles,  and  flanked  by  a 
couple  of  small  towers,  overlooked  an  o])en  square  with  a 
muddy  pond  in  the  middle.  There  was  also  a typical  Cen- 
tral Asiatic  mosque,  small  in  size,  with  a colonnaded  veranda 
along  the  front,  showing  simple  decorative  designs,  painted 
inscriptions,  and  streamers;  and  associated  with  this  was  the 
masar  (saint’s  tomb)  of  Kara-chinak.  The  court-yard  of  the 
mosque  was  planted  with  venerable  poplars,  with  stems  of 
a mighty  girth.  By  an  ingenious  contrivance  one  of  them 
was  made  to  do  duty  as  a sort  of  minaret.  Lastly,  1 will 
merely  mention  the  masar  of  .Supurga  Hakim ; it  had  a 
green  cupola  and  four  small  towers. 

On  the  whole,  the  town  was  a rural  sort  of  jflace,  abun- 


FROM  KASHCiAR  TO  ICiilIZ-VAR 


25' 


dantly  filthy,  its  streets  narrow  and  dusty,  its  bazaar  jiro- 
tected  against  the  burning  heat  of  summer  by  wooden  roofs 
and  straw  mats.  The  men  went  about  for  the  most  jiart 
naked  from  the  waist  ujiward.  The  small  boys  were  en- 
tirely naked,  d'he  little  girls  had  their  heads  and  feet  bare, 
but  wore  one  garment  — a bright  red  skirt.  Fhe  women, 
who  seldom  go  \’eiled,  frequently  sat  at  the  stalls  in  the 
bazaars,  or  in  the  open  squares,  with  baskets  of  fruit  at  their 
feet.  As  a rule,  they  were  not  blessed  with  good  looks. 
Like  their  sisters  in  other  jxarts  of  FAst  'Furkestan,  they 
wore  their  black  hair  in  two  long  thick  jilaits. 

fhe  Chinese  quarter  of  the  town,  which,  like  the  Chinese 
quarter  of  Kashgar,  was  called  Yanghi-shahr  (the  New 
Town),  lav  close  beside  the  Mohammedan  quarter,  and  was 
defended  by  a lofty  crenellated  wall  with  towers  and  a moat. 
It  was  there  that  the  amban  of  the  town  had  his  yamen 
(residence),  with  its  train  of  bareheaded  Chinese  in  long, 
white  tunics  and  wide,  blue  trousers. 

I'he  Indian  caravanserai,  where  we  put  up  during  our  stay 
in  the  place,  was  built  round  a square  court-yard,  with  a pil- 
lared veranda  along  each  of  its  sides.  Its  principal  inhabi- 
tants were  half  a score  Hindus  from  Shikarpur,  importers  of 
cloth  from  India  by  way  of  Leh,  Karakorum,  Shahidula,  and 
Yarkand.  But  their  chief  business  was  money-lending;  and 
by  exacting  exorbitant  rates  of  interest  they  had  so  com- 
pletely got  the  people  into  their  power,  that  the  greater  por- 
tion of  the  proceeds  of  the  harvest  flowed  into  their  pockets. 

But  I must  not  linger  longrer  in  Yans[hi-hissar.  The 
mountain-breezes  are  wooing  me:  and  there  is  a orreat  deal 
to  do  before  I can  permit  myself  to  indulge  in  rest.  I was 
unable  to  persuade  our  host,  Odi  from  Shikarpur,  to  accept 
any  return  for  the  hospitality  he  showed  me.  But  I in 
some  sort  satisfied  my  conscience  by  making  him  a present 
of  the  amban’s  sheep  and  firewood,  together  with  a knife 
which  I added  out  of  mv  own  stores.  Kasim  Bes[  escorted 
us  as  far  as  the  canal  of  Mangshin -ustang,  which  has  a 
volume  of  280  cubic  feet  in  the  second.  There  he  dis- 
mounted, bowed,  and  took  his  leave ; his  place  being  taken 


252 


THROUGH  ASIA 


by  another  beg,  Niaz,  who  accompanied  us  throughout  the 
whole  of  the  journey.  About  six  o’clock  in  the  evening  we 
were  assailed  by  an  extremely  violent  whirlwind,  which  came 
out  of  the  northwest,  and  filled  the  air  with  dense  clouds  of 
dust  and  sand.  The  gust  only  lasted  five  minutes,  and  was 
shortly  afterwards  followed  by  a heavy  pelting  rain,  which 
wetted  us  to  the  skin  before  we  were  able  to  reach  shelter  in 
a hut  by  the  road-side.  But  it  brought  a compensating  ad- 
vantage in  that  it  purified  the  air  and  settled  the  dust. 

From  the  village  of  Kara-bash  (Black  Head)  we  directed 
our  march  due  south,  leaving  on  our  left  the  high-road  to 
Yarkand.  For  a pretty  considerable  distance  eastward  the 
country  was  diversified  with  ranges  of  low  hills  of  sand,  clay, 
and  conglomerate.  The  route  we  followed  was  excellent 

O 

riding,  being  a perfectly  level  steppe,  diversified  by  a few 
scattered  knolls.  We  rested  two  hours  in  Sughet  (the  Willow- 
Tree),  then  started  again  in  the  night;  but  it  was  so  pitch 
dark  that  we  had  to  be  guided  through  the  narrow  lanes  of 
the  village  by  a man  carrying  an  oil -lamp.  It  was  about 
two  in  the  morning  when  we  arrived  at  the  kishlak  (winter 
\illage)  of  Ighiz-yar  (the  High  Terrace).  There  we  took  up 
our  quarters  in  a finely  situated  court-yard. 

The  amban  of  Yanghi-hissar  had  despatched  a man  on 
before  into  the  mountains  to  prepare  the  way  for  us.  We 
met  this  man,  Emin  Beg,  on  June  25th,  returning  with  the 
intelligence  that  the  torrents  had  really  become  much  swollen 
during  the  past  few  days,  but  that  nevertheless  they  were  not 
so  high  as  to  offer  any  serious  impediment  to  the  progress 
of  the  caravan.  As  a reward  for  his  welcome  news  I in- 
vited him  to  take  tea  with  me,  and  let  him  enjoy  the  rare 
treat  of  listening  to  a tune  on  the  musical- box.  One  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  place  strummed  a setar  (zither),  and 
a mollah  read  aloud  passages  from  the  Koran  to  a group  of 
the  faithful. 

One  las/i  (five  miles)  south  of  the  village  there  is  an  iron- 
mine  known  as  Kok-bainak.  I he  ore  occurs  in  strata  of 
loose  earth  or  clay,  and  is  dug  out  and  carried  to  Ighiz-yar 
to  be  smelted.  Both  the  ajqfiiances  and  the  process  of  ex- 


FROM  KASIKFAR  TO  KiHIZ-VAR 


253 


traction  are  of  the  most  j)rimitive  dcscrij^tion  ; tlie  furnace 
being  only  about  six  feet  high,  with  three  feet  interior  diame- 
ter, It  is  housed  in  a little  hut  built  of  planks  and  sun-dried 
clay.  After  the  furnace  is  half  filled  with  charcoal,  the  fer- 
ruginous earths  are  thrown  in,  till  they  cover  the  charcoal  to 
the  depth  of  six  or  eight  inches.  'I'he  fuel  is  then  lighted, 
and  half  a dozen  men  squat  on  their  haunches  in  front  of  as 
many  holes  made  near  the  bottom  of  the  furnace,  and  blow 
into  it  with  goat  - skin  bellows,  in  order  to  intensify  the 
draught.  'I'hey  keep  up  at  that  nearly  all  day  long,  from 
time  to  time  examining,  by  means  of  an  iron  rod  inserted 
through  a hole  in  the  side  of  the  furnace,  how  the  smelting 
is  progressing.  Towards  evening  the  molten  metal  comes 
running  out  at  the  bottom  of  the  furnace.  After  every  burn- 
ing the  furnace  of  course  requires  to  have  the  slag  and  ashes 
raked  out,  so  that  it  may  be  clean  and  ready  for  a fresh  batch 
of  ore.  The  metal  thus  obtained  is  of  such  a miserably  poor 
quality  that  it  cannot  be  forged.  It  is  only  fit  to  be  con- 
verted into  the  more  primitive  agricultural  implements.  It 
is  no  use  for  horseshoes.  One  entire  day’s  smelting  yields 
5 clid}'ccJ\  which  are  sold  in  Yanghi-hissar  for  30  tengeh  {6s. 

One  chareck  is  equal  to  1 2 jing;  and  one  jing  equals  i .j 
Russian  pounds  or  pounds  avoirdupois.  The  owner  of  the 
furnace,  \\\^  yuz-bashi  (chief  of  one  hundred  men)  or  village 
chieftain  of  Ighiz-yar,  manages  the  business  himself,  person- 
ally superintending  the  smelting,  and  paying  each  of  his 
seven  work-people  at  the  rate  of  only  six  da-tien  a day;  the 
da-tien  being  a Chinese  bronze  coin  equal  to  less  than  half  a 
farthing  in  value. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


THROUGH  THE  GORGE  OE  TENGHI-TAR 

Our  spirits  were  high  when  we  left  Igliiz-yar  early  on  the 
morning  of  June  26th  ; for  immediately  before  us  we  saw  the 
valley  of  Tazgun  opening  its  arms  to  welcome  us.  The 
mountains  themselves,  now  brown,  now  gray,  were  barely 
visible,  their  contours  being  blurred  by  the  great  amount  of 
dust  which  obscured  the  atmosphere  ; but  at  their  feet  we 
could  just  discern  two  of  the  kishlaks  or  winter  villages, 
snugly  ensconced  amid  groves  of  green  trees.  But  as  we 
drew  near  to  the  entrance  of  the  valley  the  outlines  of  the 
mountains  gradually  came  out  more  distinctly  into  view,  at 
the  same  time  seeming  to  creep  closer  together.  The  valley 
of  Tazgun  is  very  narrow,  so  narrow  even  at  its  entrance 
that  it  could  easily  be  defended  by  the  little  fort  of  Ighiz-yar- 
karaol,  with  its  garrison  of  only  twenty -four  men.  On  the 
other  side  of  that  post  the  population  are  exclusively  Kirghiz 
nomads,  who  climb  up  to  their  summer  grazing  - grounds  on 
the  plateau  by  paths  which  strike  upward  from  several  of 
the  side - glens  of  the  Tazgun  valley.  Passing  one  of  these 
glens,  Mahmud-terek-yilga  (the  Glen  of  Mahmud’s  Poplar),  I 
caught  a glimpse  at  its  head  of  a mountain  covered  with  glit- 
tering snow.  The  air  was  pure  and  mild  ; so  we  i)itched 
upon  a shallow  grotto  in  the  syenite  cliffs  of  Tokai-bashi  for 
our  camping-ground  for  the  night. 

Our  camp  was  near  the  junction  of  two  glens,  Kaptch-kol 
and  Keng-kol.  We  struck  up  the  latter;  and  as  the  torrents 
which  coursed  down  both  glens  contributed  about  equal 
volumes  to  the  river  d'azRun,  we  now  had  to  deal  with  a cur- 
rent  only  half  the  volume  of  that  in  the  Tazgun  valley.  'I'he 
glen  of  Keng-kol  (the  Broad  Glen)  did  indeed  contract  as  we 


THROUGH  THU  (iORCiU  OF  TUX(iHI-'rAR  255 

advanced;  yet  not  so  nuich  but  that  there  was  space  for  sev- 
eral small  meadows  and  pasture-grounds,  frequented  in  sum- 
mer by  the  Kipchak  Kirghiz,  who  spend  the  winter  lower 
down  near  the  entrance  to  the  valley.  1 here  were  still  a 
few  isolated  poplar -trees  to  be  seen,  for  the  vegetation  was 
by  no  means  meagre.  The  cliffs  on  each  side  of  the  glen 
consisted  of  syenite,  porphyry,  and  black  clay-slates,  very  much 
weathered,  so  much  so  indeed  that  in  many  places  the  bot- 
tom of  the  glen  was  completely  covered  by  their  debris. 
Otherwise  the  surface  was  soft  soil. 

At  the  aul  of  Keng-kol  (i  i.ooo  feet)  we  were  hospitably  re- 
ceived by  the  aksakal  (white-beard — />.,  chieftain)  of  the  place, 
Abdu  Mohammed,  who  gave  up  to  me  a portion  of  his  own 
large  yurt.  We  were  detained  at  that  place  all  day  long  on  June 
29th  by  violent  showers  of  rain.  The  aul  (tent-village)  num- 
bered twenty-one  inhabitants,  who  spend  there  the  three  sum- 
mer months  of  every  year.  Every  evening  the  sheejj  and  goats 
are  driven  to  the  aul  to  be  milked  ; and  are  then  shut  up  for  the 
night  in  large  fenced-in  folds,  guarded  by  fierce,  long-haired 
dogs,  to  protect  them  from  the  wolves,  which  abound  in  that  dis- 
trict. Whenever  the  dogs  bark  during  the  night  a man  hur- 
ries out  towards  the  point  where  danger  threatens,  and  by 
loud  shouts  endeavors  to  frighten  the  wolves  awav. 

About  noon  a troop  of  men  and  women,  dressed  in  holiday 
attire,  came  to  the  aul.  I'hey  were  on  their  way  to  the  fu- 
neral of  a bo}’  in  another  aul  lower  down  the  valley.  But 
some  of  them  thought  they  would  have  a pleasanter  time  of 
it  with  us;  and  therefore  stayed  behind  when  their  compan- 
ions continued  their  journey.  The  company  in  my  host’s 
yurt  was  thus  augmented  by  a dozen  men,  eight  women,  and 
seven  children  ; and  yet  it  was  so  roomy  that  we  were  not 
at  all  crowded.  They  were  a lively  set  of  people  too,  as  a 
single  picture  will  show.  One  man  played  the  dutara  (a  two- 
stringed instrument  of  music);  others  sat  about  in  little 
groups  chatting.  Some  of  the  women,  wearing  enormous 
white  head-dresses,  ate  bread  and  drank  milk  out  of  bisr  wood- 
en  bowls.  The  children  ran  about  and  played.  Our  hostess 
was  engaged  in  suckling  her  infant,  a boy  of  about  one 


256 


THROUGH  ASIA 


month  old,  leaning  over  his  cradle  to  do  so.  The  head  of 
the  family,  old  Abdu  Mohammed,  was  the  only  individual 
who  heeded  the  obligations  of  religion.  He  alone  punctually 
observed  the  hours  of  prayer.  None  of  the  rest  heeded 
them,  but  went  on  laughing  and  talking.  There  was  the 
usual  fire  in  the  middle  of  the  tent. 

There  was  a good  deal  of  humus  and  luxuriant  herbaee  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  aul  of  Keng  - kol,  which  was  situated  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  stream.  Immediately  opposite  to  it,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  the  bare  rock  cropped  out  in  sev- 
eral places,  consisting  of  clay -slates,  alternating  with  a hard 
species  of  crystalline  rock.  The  stream  was  at  that  time 
very  insignificant ; but  the  water  was  limpid,  cold,  and  whole- 
some, In  consequence  of  the  recent  rains,  it  was  expected 
to  rise  soon  to  flood  - level.  The  rainy  season  in  that  valley 
is  coincident  with  May  and  June.  Snow  never  falls  except 
during  the  four  winter  months. 

«T> 

During  the  following  days  the  ground  became  more  broken 
and  variable  as  well  as  wilder  in  character.  Our  route  led 
out  of  the  glen  of  Keng-kol  into  that  of  the  Charlung,  one  of 
the  tributaries  of  the  Yarkand  - daria.  The  pass  connecting 
the  two  glens,  like  the  two  streams  which  flowed  down  from 
it  in  opposite  directions,  was  called  Kashka-su  (the  Many- 
colored  Stream). 

The  little  glen,  which  led  up  to  the  pass  out  of  the  Keng- 
kol  valley,  was  extremely  narrow,  and  rose  at  a steep  angle. 
Owino;  to  the  sfreat  variations  in  the  contour  of  the  "round, 
I was  obliged  to  take  frequent  measurements,  in  order  to  cal- 
culate our  rate  of  marching  and  the  distance  marched.  I 
found  that,  to  ascend  this  glen,  it  took  the  j)ack- horses  qi 
minutes  to  climb  a quarter  of  a mile;  and  our  day’s  march 
varied  from  12  to  20  miles. 

Although  the  black  clay-slates  cropped  out  visibly  on  both 
sides  of  the  pass,  on  its  culminating  ridge  there  was  not  a 
trace  of  bare  rock  to  be  seen.  I'he  contours  were,  on  the 
contrary,  gently  rounded  off,  the  ground  being  covered  with 
humus  and  luxuriant  grass.  At  the  time  of  my  visit  the  lat- 
ter was  being  grazed  by  large  troops  of  horses  belonging  to 


THROUCill  THK  (iORliK  Ol'  THN(iI  1 1-TA R 257 


Sart  merchants  of  Yarkand.  The  top  of  the  pass  afforded  a 
splendid  view  of  the  deep-cut  glens  on  both  sides  of  the  ridge, 
and  of  the  snow-clad  mountain  - jicaks  in  the  far  distance. 
'I'he  two  streams  which  carried  off  the  rainfall  on  each  ^ide 
of  the  watershed  were  about  the  same  size.  'I'he  feeders  of 
both  have  eaten  their  way  deeply  into  the  flanks  of  the  moun- 
tain, giving  origin  to  many  fan-shaped  corries  or  gullies.  I he 
altitude  of  the  pass  was  13.000  feet  above  sea-level. 

'I'he  jxuh  on  the  other  side  of  the  pass  went  straight 
downward,  due  south,  towards  the  little  aul  of  Koi-yolli  (the 
Sheep-Path),  consisting  of  si.\  yurts,  and  so  on  to  the  karaol 
(watch-house)  of  Chihil-gumbez,  a collection  of  stone  and 
clay  houses,  stables,  and  yurts,  besides  a cemetery  with  a 
small  chapel  crowned  with  a cupola  { <^itnidcz).  The  inhab- 
itants numbered  only  13;  and,  like  those  of  Keng-kol  and 
Charlung,  were  Kipchak  Kirghiz.  'I'he  watch-hou.se  stood  at 
the  junction  of  three  routes — those,  namely,  which  come  from 
Yarkand,  from  Keng-kol,  and  from  'ragharma.  .A  great 
many  caravans  and  mounted  men  j)ass  the  jdace  in  the 
course  of  the  year;  indeed,  I was  told  that  the  daily  average 
of  travellers  was  ten. 

On  July  ist  we  went  over  another  pass.  Ter- art  (the 
Leather  Pass),  i 3,250  feet,  which  closely  resembled  Kashka- 
su,  e.xcept  that  the  ascent  and  descent  were  even  steej)er. 
On  the  crest  of  the  ridge  the  clay  - slates  stood  out  almost 
vertically  in  sharp  fantastically  shaped  snags,  flakes,  and 
slabs.  The  spaces  which  intervened  between  the  separate 
summits  were  frecjuently  filled  with  mounds  of  detritus, 
which  in  their  fall  had  exposed  the  planes  of  fracture  of  the 
inky- black  argillaceous  rocks.  The  descent  on  the  other 
side  was  through  a remarkably  wild  and  striking  ravine, 
traversed  by  a little  rippling  mountain-brook.  Its  sides  were 
walled  in  by  bare  clay-slates;  the  bottom  littered  with  huge 
masses  of  conglomerate,  consisting  of  broken  schists  and 
white,  coarse-grained  syenite,  embedded  in  yellow  soil  and 
sand,  through  which  the  torrent  had  carved  out  a deep 
channel  for  itself.  Rushes  and  cjrass  s^rew  between  the 
blocks  of  syenite.  Another  rivulet  came  down  a side  glen. 

I.-17 


258 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Borumsal,  greatly  quickening  the  vivacity  of  the  Ter -art 
Eventually  the  glen  widened  out ; but  after  it  did  so,  be- 
came every  now  and  again  almost  blocked  by  terraced  ridges 
of  conglomerate  several  hundred  feet  thick.  About  three 
o’clock  in  the  afternoon  the  southwest  wind  brought  up  a 
slight  mist ; this  gradually  thickened,  and  towards  evening 
changed  into  a drizzding  rain,  which  searched  through  every- 
thing, so  that  we  were  glad  to  find  shelter  in  the  aul  of 
Pasrabat  (the  Low-lying  Station),  a place  of  three  yurts 
9460  feet  above  sea-level,  inhabited  by  13  Kessek  Kirghiz. 

But  although  so  small,  Pasrabat  is  so  far  important  that 
it  lies  on  the  road  connecting  Kashgar,  Yanghi-hissar,  and 
Yarkand  with  Tash  - kurgan,  the  principal  Chinese  strong- 
hold in  the  Eastern  Pamirs.  For  this  reason  it  boasts  of  a 
small  fort.  The  stream  of  Pasrabat  runs  into  the  Tash- 
dumbash-SLi,  which  in  its  turn  becomes  an  affluent  of  the 
Yarkand-daria. 

Several  times  during  the  night  I was  awakened  by  the 
rain,  which  beat  with  a loud  pattering  upon  the  roof  of  the 
tent,  and  occasionally  came  through  upon  me,  sprinkling  me 
all  over.  The  next  morning  the  neighboring  glens  were 
again  shrouded  in  thick  mist.  As  soon  as  I got  up  I had 
an  animated  discussion  with  the  Kirghiz,  as  to  whether  we 
should  go  on  or  stay  where  we  were.  They  advised  me  to 
push  on,  being  afraid  that  if  the  rain  continued,  though  only 
one  day  longer,  the  mountain-torrents  would  rise  so  high  as 
to  be  impassable.  But  my  karakesh  (owner  of  horses)  was  of 
opinion  that  the  day  was  already  too  far  advanced;  we 
should  not  get  to  the  biggest  stream  we  had  to  cross  be- 
tween Pasrabat  and  our  next  station  until  after  dark.  Ac- 
cordingly we  decided  to  remain  where  we  were. 

This  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  take  certain  observations 
as  to  the  volume  of  water  carried  down  by  the  stream.  By 
this  the  rainfall  of  the  past  day  or  two  had  begun  to  come 
down  from  the  mountains,  and  the  flood  had  already  risen 
very  considerably.  Yesterday  it  was  clear  as  crystal;  to- 
day it  was  gray  and  muddy,  and  boiled  along  tumultuously 
among  the  stones.  The  breadth  of  the  torrent  increased  to 


TllROUCiH  rilK  (iORGI*:  OF  IFNCiHI-TAR  259 


53  feet,  its  depth  to  a maximum  of  21.6  inches,  its  volume  to 
250  cubic  feet  in  tlie  second.  At  mid-day  the  temperature  of 
the  water  was  50.9’  h'ahr.  (10.5  C.).  'I'lie  variations  which 
the  current  underwent  during  the  course  of  the  day  will 
show  how  sensitive  these  mountain-brooks  are  to  precipita- 
tion and  temperature.  By  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  the 
water  had  sunk  .6  of  an  inch.  This  was  owing  to  the  fact 
that  the  highest  rills  which  fed  the  stream  froze  during  the 
night.  But  at  five  o’clock,  by  which  time  that  morning’s 
rains  had  got  down  to  I asrabat,  the  stream  rose  1.3S  of  an 
inch.  At  seven  o’clock  it  was  6.3  inches  above  the  height 
of  my  first  measurement;  but  in  consequence  of  the  steep- 
ness of  the  banks,  the  breadth  had  not  increased  more  than 
about  3]  feet.  'I'he  noisy  brawling  of  the  current,  now  of  a 
brownish-gray  color,  sounded  duller  and  heavier  than  in  the 
earlier  part  of  the  day  ; for  the  stones  and  pieces  of  rock 
which  protruded  above  the  surface  in  the  morning,  checking 
the  flow  of  the  water,  and  causing  it  to  splash  up  into  the 
air,  were  now  entirely  submerged.  Now  that  the  outpour  of 
the  rains  had  got  down  as  far  as  our  camp,  the  volume  was 
more  than  twice  as  great  as  in  the  morning,  being  495  cubic 
feet  in  the  second.  At  the  same  time  the  temperature  was 
49.5°  Fahr.  (9.7°  C.).  By  eight  o'clock  the  current  had  risen 
yet  another  .8  of  an  inch,  and  the  temperature  had  fallen  to 
48.9°  F'ahr.  (9.4°  C.);  another  hour  later  the  figures  were  .4  of 
an  inch  and  48.4°  F'ahr.  (9.1°  C.)  respectively.  All  this  goes 
to  show  that,  as  the  volume  of  the  water  increased,  it  took  a 
proportionally  longer  time  for  it  to  attain  to  the  temperature 
which  prevailed  in  the  lower  valleys. 

At  seven  o’clock  next  morning  the  flood  stood  at  about 
the  same  level  as  when  I took  my  first  observation ; but  dur- 
ing the  night  the  temperature  had  fallen  to  45.5°  F'ahr. 

(7.5°  C.). 

That  day,  July  3d,  we  had  an  unusually  trying  day’s 
march.  At  first  the  glen  was  of  medium  breadth,  and  toler- 
ably rich  in  grass,  bushes,  and  willow-trees.  Every  now  and 
again  the  conglomerates  stretched  pretty  far  up  the  moun- 
tain-sides, forming  rampart-like  walls,  with  covered  galleries, 


26o 


THROUGH  ASIA 


excavations,  and  grottos,  but  so  precipitous  that  they  looked 
as  if  every  moment  they  would  crash  down  into  the  glen. 
But  after  we  passed  the  end  of  the  side  glen  of  Yam-bulak 
(the  Grotto  Spring)  the  main  glen  became  very  narrow,  and 
its  bottom  choked  with  disintegrated  d'ebi'is.  The  torrent 
too  dwindled  a good  deal,  having  lost  two  or  three  of  its 
principal  contributaries. 

At  Yam-bulak  there  was  a hut  by  the  way-side,  and  our 
eyes  were  charmed  by  the  sight  of  the  fresh,  white  flowers 
of  the  wild -rose.  Beyond  that  point  the  glen  was  called 
Tenghi-tar,  a very  suitable  name,  although  a pleonasm  ; for 
tar  means  “narrow”  and  te7ighi  “ narrow  glen-path.”  Here 
the  coarse  crystalline  rocks  predominated  again;  the  sharp 
j)innacles  and  needles  of  the  mountains  in  the  argillaceous 
formation  being  replaced  by  more  rounded  domes  and  flat- 
tened tops.  The  glen  was,  as  I have  said,  choked  with 
nevertheless  vegetation  thrived;  the  beech,  wild-rose, 
and  hawthorn  being  the  most  noticeable  species. 

k'inally  the  glen  contracted  to  a wedge-shaped  trough, 
carved,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  mountain-side.  The  path  grew 
more  and  more  difficult.  \Ve  wound  a hundred,  a thousand 
times  in  and  out  round  the  fallen  bowlders;  and  every  now 
and  again  crossed  the  stream,  its  water  once  more  clear  and 
limpid.  The  glen  was  closed  by  an  upheaval  of  gneiss,  over- 
lain  sporadically  by  conglomerate  strata.  At  a spot  ap|)ro- 
l^riately  named  Issyk-bulak,  a triple  hot  spring  gushed  out 
from  beneath  a large  block  of  conglomerate.  The  water, 
though  not  particularly  copious,  burst  forth  with  a splash, 
and  had  a disagreeable  sulphurous  odor.  It  colored  the 
stones  upon  which  it  fell  brown  and  yellow;  nevertheless, 
luxuriant  green  grass  and  other  vegetation  grew  only  a little 
way  lower  down.  A column  of  steam  rose  above  the 
sjjrings,  the  water  having  a temjierature  of  127°  h'ahr.  (52.8“ 
G.)  at  the  jioint  where  it  emerged.  The  torrent,  which  raced 
down  the  glen,  passed  within  eight  yards  of  the  sj)rings. 
Ten  yards  above  them  its  water  was  54.5''  (12.5°  C.) ; but  ten 
yards  below  them  as  much  as  66.2”  (19"  C.). 

Two  minutes  farther  up  the  glen  we  disco\ered  another 


THROLUiii  rill':  (;oR(ii:  or'  'rr:xciiii- iar  261 


hot  spring,  very  similar  to  the  first,  except  that  it  was  much 
smaller  and  its  temperature  125  (51.7°  C.).  Above  this 

s|)ring  the  tem])erature  of  the  glen  torrent  was  only  54“ 
(12,2  C.).  My  reason  for  c|Uoting  these  trivial  details  of  vary- 
ing temperature  in  the  stream  is  this.  In  winter  the  torrent 
never  freezes  below  the  hot  springs  all  the  way  to  Vam- 
bulak;  while  above  them  it  always  freezes. 

.Above  the  hot  springs  the  glen  contracted  still  more,  and 
at  length  became  a veritable  ravine,  only  a few  yards  wide, 
the  air  cold  and  clammy  as  in  a cellar,  the  rocky  sides  per- 
})endicular,  the  stream  filling  up  nearly  its  entire  width  dash- 
ing itself  against  the  bowlders,  flashing  up  above  them  in 
sprav,  plunging  down  small  waterfalls.  Near  the  entrance  to 
the  gorge  lay  the  carcass  of  a dead  horse,  a warning  to  us  to 
keep  a watchful  eve  upon  our  own  animals.  .And  indeed 
there  was  need  of  it ; for  the  ascent  was  painfully  steep.  But, 
as  some  compensation  for  that,  the  scenery  was  grand  and 
wild.  When  we  shouted,  and  we  had  to  shout  pretty  loud  to 
make  ourselves  heard,  the  echoes  were  dashed  from  side  to 
side  against  the  hollow  cliffs.  .Above  our  heads  there  was 
only  a narrow  strip  of  sky  \ isible.  Hvery  minute  almost  the 
gorge  ajipeared  as  if  it  would  come  to  a sudden  stop,  the 
cliffs  seemed  to  meet  and  join.  But  no  ; it  was  only  a fresh 
bend  in  the  glen.  We  turned  the  corner,  and  lo ! another 
splendid  prospect  opening  itself  out  before  us.  .And  so  this 
remarkably  picturesque  gorge  went  winding  on,  a narrow, 
sinuous  gap  excavated  through  the  granite  and  quartzite 
rocks  by  the  furious  little  torrent. 

It  was  anything  but  an  easy  task  to  get  our  heavily  laden 
pack-horses  safe  and  sound  through  this  long  and  difficult 
defile.  For  the  greater  part  of  the  way  we  were  obliged  to 
ride  up  the  bed  of  the  torrent;  and  the  tossing  spray  pre- 
vented us  from  watching  the  horses’  feet.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  district  had  filled  up  the  lowest  pools  with  blocks  of 
stone,  large  and  small,  thus  making  a sort  of  bridge  or  cause- 
way. But  at  the  best,  these  pieces  of  road-making  were  only 
so  many  new  pitfalls  of  peril.  The  water  had  scooped  out 
and  carried  away  all  the  smaller,  softer  materials  which  had 


262 


THROUGH  ASIA 


been  used  to  fill  up  the  spaces  between  the  bigger  blocks ; 
so  that  the  causeways  were  now  full  of  gaping  holes,  into 
which  the  horses  frequently  slipped  and  nearly  broke  their 
legs.  Two  or  three  of  them  actually  fell  off  the  causeways. 
Then  away  dashed  the  men  into  the  stream  to  get  them  uj) 
again  and  rescue  the  cases  and  bales.  All  the  way  up  my 
heart  was  in  my  mouth,  for  fear  the  horse  I rode  should  give 
me  an  unwelcome  bath.  One  spot  in  particular  I recollect 
quite  well.  It  was  a very  ugly  place.  A number  of  big 
round  stones,  with  brightly  polished,  slippery  surfaces,  formed 
a kind  of  sill  stretching  obliquely  across  the  bed  of  the  tor- 
rent. A couple  of  men  climbed  up  each  on  to  a large  bowl- 
der, and,  seizing  hold  of  the  packing-cases  and  hauling  away 
at  them,  helped  the  horses  to  clamber  over. 

At  length,  however,  the  path  grew  better.  For  at  a spot 
called  Tarning-bashi-moynak  (the  Pass  at  the  Head  of  the 
Gorge)  the  glen  was  divided  into  two  widely  differing  halves 
by  a mountain-spur,  which  projected  from  the  left.  At  its  foot 
the  torrent  shot  down  to  such  a great  depth  that  it  was  quite 
impossible  to  advance.  We  therefore  climbed  up  and  over 
the  crest  of  the  projecting  spur,  getting  a magnificent  view 
of  the  glen  both  ways,  up  and  down,  from  the  top.  In  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  deep  narrow  gorge  we  had  left,  the  glen 
ahead  of  us  widened  out  into  a broad,  level  valley,  with  gen- 
tly sloping  hill -sides  and  rounded  eminences  above  them, 
plenty  of  vegetation,  and  a practicable  path  alongside  the 
stream.  A little  higher  up  the  rock  formation  on  the  left 
hand  was  again  conglomerates;  but  on  the  right  syenite,  its 
surface  so  smoothly  polished  that  I could  not  helj)  fancying 
it  had  been  worn  away  by  water  or  glacial  ice.  Upon  look- 
ing back,  I perceived  that  the  spur  before  mentioned  was 
overtopped  by  a double-crested  mountain,  covered  with  per- 
])etual  snow.  The  Kirghiz  called  it  Kara-yilga-bashi  (the 
1 lead  of  the  Black  Valley),  d'he  portion  of  the  glen  above 
'rarning-bashi-moynak  was  called  Tar-bashi  (the  I lead  of  the 
Narrow  Gorge),  showing  how  sharply  the  Kirghiz  are  wont 
to  discriminate  between  regions  of  dissimilar  formation  and 
character. 


CATTLE  AND  SIIEKI'  NEAR  KARAATLCJA 


TiiROL’cin  Till-:  CORGI-:  OF  ti<:ngiii-tar  265 


By  this  we  liad  nearly  reached  our  camping-place  for  the 
night,  Biilak-bashi  (the  Head  of  the  S])rings).  'I'he  yiiz-bashi 
(chieftain)  of  the  jilace,  an  old  beg,  received  us  with  tlie 
friendliest  courtesy,  and  at  once  ordered  a comfortable  yurt 
to  be  got  ready  for  our  accommodation.  At  this  place  I ob- 
served a very  remarkable  phenomenon  in  connection  with 
the  stream  of  I'ar-bashi.  W'hen  we  arrived,  its  current  was 
low,  and  perfectly  limj)id;  but  at  half-past  three  in  the  after- 
n(X)ii  we  siuldenly  heard  a distant  rumbling  sound.  'I'he 
noise  grew  rapidly  louder  and  louder.  'I'hen,  foaming  like  a 
white  surf-roller,  down  rushed  the  flood,  born  of  the  melted 
snow  and  ice  in  the  higher  altitudes,  and  of  the  recent  rain- 
fall in  the  lower.  How  lucky  we  had  got  through  the  gorge! 
Otherwise  the  whole  caravan  would  infallibly  have  been 
swept  away.  But  we  only  just  cleared  it  in  time  I 'I'his  was 
what  the  Kirghiz  were  anxious  about  at  Chari ung. 

Since  leaving  Ighiz-yar  we  had  crossed  over  the  broad,  far- 
stretching  easterly  spurs  of  the  Mus-tagh  range — a confused 
jumble  of  crests,  peaks,  and  intervening  valleys.  From  the 
valley  of  Keng-kol  we  had  crossed  over  into  the  glen  of  Char- 
lung,  and  from  the  glen  of  Charlung  into  the  glen  of  Basra- 
bat,  climbing  up  and  down  two  i)asses  of  relatively  minor 
significance  on  the  way.  At  the  place  where  the  Tenghi-tar, 
one  of  the  head-feeders  of  the  stream  which  descended  the  glen 
of  Pasrabat,  broke  obliquely  through  the  crystalline  moun- 
tain-chain, we  had  traversed  an  extraordinarily  romantic 
gorge,  which,  having  cut  out  its  channel  to  a great  depth,  re- 
called the  characteristics  of  the  typical  Peripheral  region  of 
which  I have  before  spoken.  Above  the  gorge  the  glen  had 
widened  out;  the  enclosing  mountains  assuming  at  the  same 
time  a gentler  inclination  and  falling  to  a relatively  lower 
elevation — a typical  Transitional  region  in  miniature.  We 
now  began  to  enter  upon  a typical  high-plateau  or  Central 
region.  I had  ascertained  that  the  volume  of  water  in  the 
mountain-streams  generally  increased  towards  four  o’clock  in 
the  afternoon,  and  went  on  increasing  until  well  on  in  the 
evening;  proving  that  the  snows  which  are  melted  by  the 
mid-day  sun  do  not  get  down  to  the  glens  until  several  hours 


266 


THROUGH  ASIA 


later.  The  streams  were  lowest  about  noon  and  a couple  of 
hours  afterwards,  and  attained  their  maximum  during  tlie 
night.  But  these  general  variations  are  subject  to  irregular 
oscillations,  caused  by  the  irregularity  of  the  rainfall.  It  is 
these  delu2:e-like  floods  which  do  the  real  work  of  erosion,  a 
fact  evidenced  further  by  their  thick,  muddy-looking  water. 
During  the  early  part  of  the  day  the  stream  gradually  depos- 
ited the  detritus  it  caught  up  on  its  way  down,  and  so  be- 
came clear  asrain.  • 

O 

Bulak-bashi  was  a place  of  six  yurts,  inhabited  by  thirty 
Kessek  Kirghiz.  They  are  stationary  there  all  the  year 
round,  being  commissioned  to  keep  karaol  (watch)  upon  the 
passes,  to  lodge  and  help  Chinese  travellers  journeying  over 
them,  and  to  carry  to  and  fro  the  Chinese  post.  Both  at  Bulak- 
bashi  and  at  Pasrabat  there  were  therefore  three  postmen  sta- 
tioned, each  three  being  paid  25  chareck  (n"arly  6 bushels)  of 
wheat  from  Yanghi-hissar  and  20  chareck  (nearly  5 bushels) 
from  Tash-kurgan.  Since  leaving  Yanghi-hissar  we  had 
passed  six  watch-houses — Ighiz-yar,  Tokai-bashi,  Kashka-su- 
bashi,  Chihil-gumbez,  Pasrabat,  and  Bulak-bashi.  Two  of 
the  men  belonging  to  the  aul  last  named  were  looked  upon  as 
bais — i.c.,  rich  men  ; each  owned  about  one  thousand  sheep, 
two  hundred  goats,  one  hundred  yaks,  thirty  horses,  and  the 
same  number  of  camels.  The  winters  were  said  to  be  very 
cold  in  that  glen ; and  while  the  head-feeders  of  the  stream 
remain  frozen,  which  they  usually  do  for  two  or  three  months, 
the  stream  itself  dries  up.  Snow  falls  during  five  months  in 
the  year,  but  seldom  lies  more  than  knee-deep.  The  rainy 
season,  properly  so-called,  begins  in  the  middle  of  May;  there 
is  rainfall  also  in  the  summer  and  autumn. 

July  5th  was  one  of  our  heavy  days:  we  crossed  over  the 
main  chain  of  the  Mus-tagh  system.  The  night  before  was 
still  and  sparkling  bright.  The  thermometer  droj^ped  below 
freezing  - ])oint ; and  even  at  a late  hour  in  the  morning  the 
edges  of  the  brooks  and  pools  of  stagnant  water  were  fringed 
with  ice.  The  uj)per  extremity  of  the  glen  widened  out  more 
and  more.  I'he  mountains  which  fenced  it  in,  outliers  of  the 
principal  crests  we  had  on  both  sides  of  us,  grew  flatter  and 


KIRGHIZ  AUL  IN  THE  EASTERN  PAMIRS 


'riiROLKiii  Till-:  coRcii-:  oi-'  ti-:x(:iii- r.\R  269 


flatter.  The  <;neiss  rarely  cropped  out  in  continuous  masses. 
The  little  brooks  came  rippling  down  the  glens  on  both  sides 
of  the  valley  one  after  the  other,  as  though  emerging  from 
the  side  wings  of  a stage.  'The  valley  stream,  being  at  this 
point  nearer  its  sources,  attained  its  greatest  volume  about 
noon,  and  its  waters  were  not  yet  muddy.  As  we  ]xassed 
several  of  these  small  side  glens,  we  saw  at  their  up])er  ends 
the  main  mountain-ranges,  clothed  with  glittering  mantles  of 
snow,  d'he  only  places  immediately  overlooking  the  valley 
itself  on  which  snow  still  remained  were  the  sloj)es  which 
faced  north,  northeast,  and  northwest,  d'he  door  of  the  val- 
ley was  in  great  part  a carpet  of  luxuriant  herbage,  on  which 
several  herds  of  yaks  were  grazing,  and  in  part  was  littered 
with  debris  and  fragments  of  rock  from  the  mountains  above. 

.A  short  time  afterwards  we  came  to  an  (,)val,  caldron- 
shaped valley  or  cirque,  surrounded  by  a ring  of  mountains 
])artlv  covered  with  snow.  Immediately  ahead  of  us  rose  a 
ridge  of  considerable  altitude;  and  soon,  to  the  north,  we  per- 
ceived the  jjass  of  Vanghi-davan  (the  New  Pass),  which  leads 
to  Yam-bulak,  but  is  onlv  used  when  the  d'enghi-tar  route  is 
impassable.  In  the  middle  of  that  open,  dish-shaped  valley 
lay  two  small  lakes,  each  about  500  yards  long.  They  are 
fed  by  the  melting  of  the  snows  around,  and  their  waters, 
clear  as  crystal,  are  the  source  of  the  Chichekli-su,  a little 
brook  which  runs  down  into  the  glen  of  Shindeh,  and  so  on 
to  Pasrabat  and  the  Varkand-daria.  The  name  Chichekli  is 
likewise  given  to  the  low  saddle  which  serves  as  the  water- 
shed between  the  glen  of  Tar-bashi  and  the  glen  of  Chichekli. 

From  the  caldron  - shaped  portion  of  the  glen  the  track 
swung  up  a relatively  easy  slope  to  the  pass  (15,065  feet)  of 
Kityick-kok-moynak  (the  Little  Green  Pass).  A little  farther 
on  was  another  pass,  the  Katta-kok-moynak  (the  Pig  Green 
Pass),  equally  easy,  although  it  attained  15,540  feet  in  altitude. 
Between  the  two  a small  fan-shaped  valley  gathered  up  a num- 
ber of  mountain-rills,  and  out  of  them  formed  an  affluent  to  the 
Chichekli-su.  Both  passes  were  on  the  top  of  low,  rounded 
domes,  where,  except  for  a few  scattered  patches  of  gneiss,  the 
bare  rock  was  not  visible, being  effectually  covered  with  humus. 


CHAPTER  XXIIl 


THE  PLAIN  OF  TAGHARMA 

The  passes  just  mentioned  formed  the  culminating  points 
of  the  route.  On  the  other  side — that  is,  towards  the  west — the 
path  descended  very  abruptly,  going  down  alongside  a little 
brook,  which,  like  the  Tenghi-tar  on  the  east  side,  has  exca- 
vated a deep,  narrow  passage  through  the  solid  rock.  It  cost 
us  an  hour’s  hard  work  to  get  down.  The  more  sheltered 
spots  harbored  patches  of  ice  and  snow,  across  which  we 
sometimes  rode.  The  glen,  which  was  called  Darshett,  grad- 
ually widened  out,  and  at  last  we  j^erceived  the  end  of  it — a 
rocky  gateway  giving  access  to  a broad  plain.  Against  the 
far-off  background  of  the  plain  stood  out  in  clear  relief  a 
bluish-white  mountain-wall,  denticulated  at  the  top.  It  was 
the  Mus-tagh  chain.  But  we  still  had  a detached  sj:)ur  of  no 
great  elevation  to  surmount.  On  the  other  side  of  it  there 
burst  upon  our  view  the  wide,  level  plain  of  Tagharma,  de- 
liciously green,  and  bathed  in  the  brilliant  afternoon  sun- 
shine. On  our  right  lay  the  Chinese  stronghold  of  Besh- 
kurgan  (the  P'ive  P'orts),  surrounded  by  a rectangular  wall, 
and  garrisoned,  it  was  said,  by  a lauza  or  troop  of  120  men. 
As  soon  as  we  had  crossed  the  river  Tagharma,  we  were  met 
by  the  begs  and  yuz-bashis.  They  greeted  us  j^olitely,  and 
told  me  they  had  been  directed  by  letters  from  the  Dao  d'ai 
to  place  themselves  at  my  disposal. 

d'he  plain  of  Tagharma  is  in  reality  an  elevated  steppe, 
carpeted  with  the  greenest  of  green  grass,  and  abundantly 
watered  by  running  streams,  which  gather  their  water  from 
the  snow-fields  on  the  mountain  summits  around,  and  unite 
to  form  the  Kara-su  (the  Black  Water),  a tolerably  large 
stream,  or  the  Tagharma-su  (the  Ap|)le- Mountain  Water), 


rill<:  PLAIN  OP'  TACiHARMA 


271 

which  effects  a junction  with  the  Yarkancl-claria  by  wav  of 
'Pash-kurgan.  A large  number  of  Kirghiz  dwelt  on  the 
plain : the  yeylaus  (summer  camps)  of  the  district  enjoyed  an 
excellent  rei)ute. 

July  6th  was  a day  of  rest.  'I'he  heat  was  very  opjM-es- 
sive  at  noon,  the  thermometer  registei'ing  S9.6  P'ahr.  (32°  C.) 
inside  the  tent,  and  127.4  (53°  C.)  outside  in  the  sandy 
soil.  The  black  bulb  insolation  thermometer  rose  as  high  as 
160.4°  (7“-3°  plain  itself,  in  virtue  of 

its  great  extent,  absorb  an  enormous  cpiantity  of  heat,  it  is 
also  oi)en  towards  the  south  and  slojjes  in  that  direction. 
'I'he  skv  was  as  pure  as  crystal,  excej)t  that  a very  few  light, 
fleecy  clouds  hovered  about  the  mountain-tops.  'I'he  atmos- 
j)here  trembled  and  \ ibrated  with  the  heat  that  was  radiated 
upward.  A fine  gossamer  - like  haze  hung  over  the  surface 
of  the  ground.  Our  camj)  was  situated  at  an  altitude  of 
10,620  feet. 

'I'he  rainfall  in  the  plain  of  'Fagharma  presents  a strong 
contrast  to  the  rainfall  in  the  glens  by  which  we  had  pene- 
trated through  the  mountain-sjjurs  of  the  .Mus-tagh.  In  the 
former  the  cpiantity  of  rain  which  falls  is  inconsiderable. 
When  it  does  rain,  it  comes  in  gusts  lasting  about  a couple 
of  hours  at  a time.  'Fhe  season  for  it  to  come  is  the  spring. 
The  amount  of  snowfall  is  also  small,  and  is  spread  over  barely 
three  months.  'Fhe  winters  are  extremely  cold ; but,  owing 
to  the  clear,  dry  atmosphere,  the  newly  fallen  snow  disappears 
very  cjuickly. 

The  great  amount  of  radiation,  and  the  plenteous  natural 
irrigation,  foster  vegetation  to  an  extraordinary  degree.  The 
plain  was  carpeted  with  luxuriant  grass,  thick  in  bottom 
growth,  diversified  by  moist,  verdant  tussocks,  and  enlivened 
by  the  music  of  running  brooks  and  springs.  Herds  of 
grazing  yaks  and  sheep  roamed  all  over  it;  and  here  and 
there  the  eye  caught  glimpses  of  the  cosey  Kirghiz  auks.  In 
the  valleys  farther  east  we  had  experienced  frost  at  night. 
On  the  plain  of  Tagharma  even  the  nights  were  warm.  And 
not  warm  only:  they  were  also  silent  and  tranquil — not  even 
the  soft  whispers  of  the  brooks  reached  our  ears.  But  the 


272 


THROUGH  ASIA 


mosquitoes  were  very  troublesome,  keeping  us  awake  a long 
lime. 

The  Kirghiz,  who  inhabit  the  plain  of  Tagharma,  remain 
there  winter  and  summer  alike.  They  counted  eighty  yurts, 
fifty  being  occupied  by  Kessek  Kirghiz  and  thirty  by  Teit 
Kirghiz.  On  an  average  there  were  four  jiersons  to  each 
yurt.  Besides  these,  there  were  twenty  families  of  Tajiks  at 
Besh-kurgan  and  Sarala.  But  the  majority  of  the  Kirghiz 
were  poor.  All  together,  they  owned  scarcely  more  than 
2000  sheep  and  200  yaks;  several  of  them  jiossessed  barely 
half  a dozen  sheep,  some  none  at  all.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Tajiks  were  reputed  rich.  These  people  are  not  nomads,  but 
permanent  dwellers  in  houses  of  clay.  Their  chief  occupation 
is  agriculture;  their  principal  crops  being  wheat  and  barley. 
At  the  same  time  they  breed  sheep  and  other  domestic  flocks, 
a single  individual  frequently  owning  as  many  as  one  thou- 
sand sheep.  The  Kirghiz  say  they  were  much  better  off  a 
score  of  years  ago,  when  Yakub  Beg  was  ruler  in  Kashgar. 
In  his  time  they  enjoyed  much  greater  freedom,  and  were  al- 
lowed to  drive  their  flocks  and  herds  westward  to  the  graz- 
ing-grounds on  the  Pamirs;  whereas  now  the  Chinese  jeal- 
ously forbid  them  to  cross  the  Russian  fiontier.  Our  host, 
Mohammed  Yussuf,  was  beg  of  all  the  Kirghiz  of  Tagharma. 

Wild  animals  were  numerous  in  that  region,  and  embraced 
the  wild  goat,  hare,  and  other  rodents,  the  wolf  and  fox,  the 
partridge,  wild  duck,  wild  geese,  and  several  species  of  iVaia- 
torcs  and  Grallatores. 

On  July  7th  we  continued  our  journey,  aiming  west  and 
northwest  for  the  foot  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata  massiv,  having  on 
our  right  hand  that  part  of  it  which  is  called  Kara-korum 
(the  Black  Stony  Region).  Our  route  lay  alongside  the  Kara- 
su,  which  derives  its  waters  from  glacial  streams  and  natural 
springs  combined,  and,  after  gathering  ujd  the  drainage  of  the 
])lain  of  Tagharma,  effects  a junction  with  the  Yarkand-daria. 
We  passed  the  ends  of  several  old  moraines  and  a great  many 
erratic  blocks  of  gneiss,  proving  that  glacial  action  was  once 
far  more  j)revalent  in  this  region  than  it  is  at  the  present  time. 

In  the  middle  of  the  ]ilain,  at  a place  called  Gedyack  (the 


rHK  PLAIN  OF  TAGHARMA 


-/  o 

X’iolin),  there  was  a picturesque  tu — that  is,  a mound  of  stones, 
with  a branch  of  a birch-tree  fixed  in  it  and  humjj  round  with 
the  skulls  and  horns  of  wild  sheep  and  tekkes  (wild  goats), 
the  tails  of  horses  and  yaks,  pieces  of  white  rag.  and  other 
religious  offerings  of  the  Kirghiz.  Several  smaller  birch 
poles  were  stuck  into  the  stone  heap  round  about  the  larger 
one:  and  the  whole  \icinity  was  littered  with  horses’ and 
antelopes’  skulls.  Immediately  in  front  of  the  mound  was  a 
fair-sized  block  of  gneiss  which  had  been  hollowed  out  by 
water  or  ice.  The  cavity  was  black  with  smoke;  and  the  e.\- 
planation  given  me  was  that  j)ilgrims  were  in  the  habit  of 
leaving  in  it  offerings  of  lighted  candles  or  oil  lamps,  when 
they  came  to  the  tu  to  repeat  their  jirayers.  In  that  same 
spot  too  a little  side  glen,  called  Kayindeh-masar  (the  Holy 
Tomb  of  the  Birch),  opened  uj)on  the  jjlain  from  the  west, 
d'he  name  is  derived  from  the  burial-place  of  an  important 
saint,  situated  in  the  middle  of  a little  grove  of  birch-trees. 
It  is  also  one  of  the  principal  burial-places  of  the  Kirghiz;  a 
legend  running  to  the  effect  that  it  was  the  resting-place  of 
the  hero  Khan  Khoja  in  one  of  his  warlike  excursions.  The 
tu  has  been  built  in  the  middle  of  the  public  road,  as  an  inti- 
mation that  there  is  a burial-place  in  the  vicinity ; also  as  a 
sign  that  the  great  saints’  masar  of  Mus-tagh-ata  rears  aloft 
its  snow-white  head  immediately  above  it. 

Awav  to  the  ricrht  we  now  saw  for  the  first  time  several  of 

V O 

the  glaciers  with  which  we  were  to  become  more  intimately 
acquainted  during  the  course  of  the  summer. 

On  July  8th  there  remained  but  one  day’s  march  between 
us  and  Su-bashi,  our  first  goal.  After  that  we  proposed  to 
surmount  the  easy  pass  of  L Ilug-rabat  (the  Large  Station), 
which  divides  the  valley  of  the  Sarik-kol  into  two  portions — a 
northern,  which  sends  off  its  drainage  waters  to  the  Ghez,  and 

O 

a southern,  which  drains  into  the  Yarkand-daria.  It  was  a 
splendid  day.  The  mountain-peaks  on  our  right  stood  out 
bold  and  clear-cut,  their  glittering  snow -fields  contrasting 
sharply  against  the  limpid,  light -blue  sky;  the  only  flaw 
upon  its  pearly  purity  being  a few  light  feathery  clouds  far 
off  towards  the  south.  In  a word,  the  still,  soothing  peace  of 
I— 18 


274 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  Sabbath  rested  upon  the  whole  face  of  the  country,  so- 
that  it  was  pure  joy  simply  to  sit  still  in  the  saddle  and  quiet- 
ly observe  it. 

W'e  reached  the  summit  of  the  pass  at  one  o’clock,  and 
from  a cairn  of  stones  there  (13,875  feet  altitude)  were  able  to 
get  a general  survey  of  our  surroundings.  The  large  glaciers 
radiated  westward  from  the  central  ii'ev'e,  the  ice  at  their  fract- 
ured edges  and  in  the  crevasses  glistening  a beautiful  trans- 
lucent blue.  The  spaces  between  the  glacial  arms  were  filled 
up  with  stupendous  crags  and  pinnacles  of  rock,  coal-black 
in  color  below  the  snow-line.  We  were  too  close  in  to  the 
mountain  to  be  able  to  see  the  majestic  dome  which  crowns 
it.  That  can  only  be  seen  to  advantage  a long  way  west  of 
the  place  in  which  we  were  then;  for  instance,  its  noble  pro- 
portions can  be  seen  clearly  and  distinctly  from  the  Murghab. 
There  was  an  almost  equally  fine  view  to  the  north,  where 
the  valley  of  Sarik-kol  inclined  a little  towards  the  northwest, 
so  that  the  Mus-tagh  chain  shut  in  the  view  on  that  side. 
The  dominating  feature  on  the  south  and  west  was  the  Sarik- 
kol  chain,  curving  in  towards  the  Pamirs;  but  in  certain 
places  it  was  obscured  by  the  undulating  country  between — 
a country  diversified  by  knolls  of  sand,  gravel  debris,  and 
earth,  gradually  merging  one  into  the  other,  overgrown  with 
scanty  patches  of  tussock  grass.  In  the  immediate  fore- 
ground, on  the  north,  was  the  tolerably  level  jdain  of  Su- 
bashi,  having  at  its  upper  end  the  karaol  (watch-house)  of 
irik-yak,  garrisoned  by  seven  Kirghiz,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
watch  the  two  jjasscs  Mus-kurau  and  Tock-terek.  The  latter 
possessed  two  approaches,  in  one  of  which,  that  called  Kara- 
tock-terek,  there  was  an  isolated  hill  of  fine-grained  granite, 
which  has  been  subjected  to  great  pressure,  and  showed  a 
fluidal  structure,  interspersed  with  veins  of  pegmatite  or 
coarse  - orained  "ranite.  The  glacial  current,  which  came 
down  at  the  same  point  and  flowed  into  the  Tock-terek,  was 
very  turbid,  owing  to  the  quantity  of  detritus  and  glacial  mud 
it  held  in  suspension.  It  had  also  a bigger  volume  than  the 
stream  it  joined.  The  latter,  not  being  of  glacial  origin,  was 
clear. 


THE  PLAIN  OF  TAGIIARMA 


275 


.At  tlie  bottom  of  the  northern  slope  of  Ullug-rabat  we 
came  ui)on  an  aul  of  nine  yurts,  and  shortly  after  that  upon 
another  of  five,  both  standing  on  the  brink  of  the  stream,  and 
both  owning  large  fiocks  of  sheej)  pasturing  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. At  the  first  aul  (tent-village)  1 was  met  by  'I'ogdasin 
Peg,  who  gave  me  a fiattering  welcome.  1 le  led  me  to  his 
own  aul,  where  the  yurt  I occupied  before  still  stood  in  the 
same  place;  at  the  moment,  however,  it  was  occuj)ied  by 
nearly  a dozen  dirty,  ill-smelling  Chinese  soldiers,  who  gaped 
their  fill  at  me,  shouted,  laughed,  and  touched  and  poked 
their  fingers  at  my  several  packages.  Then  came  the  secre- 
tary of  Shi  Darin,  the  commandant,  rcc|uesting  to  see  my 
passport.  He  saw  it,  and  was  satisfied.  'rhereui)on  I invited 
him  to  partake  of  tea.  He  did  so,  and  made  himself  tolerably 
agreeable. 

Togdasin  Beg  asserted  that  the  garrison  numbered  sixty-six 
men,  but  I question  whether  there  were  more  than  a dozen  ; 
at  any  rate,  1 never  saw  more,  and  if  there  had  been  more, 
they  would  certainly  have  come  to  my  yurt,  for  their  curiosity 
was  insatiable.  Togdasin  had  simply  counted  the  horses,  and 
then  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  a corresi)onding 
number  of  men.  But  in  that  part  of  the  world  the  Chinese 
have  a most  extraordinary  way  of  enumerating  their  troops. 
They  are  not  content  with  counting  the  soldiers  only,  but 
reckon  in  also  their  horses,  rifles,  shoes,  breeches,  and  so 
forth ; so  that  the  resultant  total  is  a long  way  above  what  it 
ought  to  be.  They  apparently  go  on  the  supposition  that 
the  rifle  is  at  least  as  valuable  as  the  man ; and  by  an  anal- 
ogous train  of  reasoning  they  argue  that  a man  is  of  little  use 
if  he  has  to  travel  on  foot,  that  he  cannot  go  about  naked,  and 
so  on.  Hence  they  count  in  the  whole  kit,  rifle,  breeches,  and 
all.  By  this  peculiar  process  of  arithmetic  they  fancy  they 
deceive  the  credulous  Kirghiz,  as  well  as  the  Russians  on  the 
other  side  of  the  frontier,  into  believins:  that  their  garrisons 
are  very  much  stronger  than  they  are  in  reality.  Woe  to 
the  Kirghiz  who  should  presume  to  count  the  soldiers  of  the 
Celestial  Empire  by  the  same  common  rule  as  that  by  which 
he  counts  his  sheep ! A short  time  before  my  visit  in  that 


276 


THROUGH  ASIA 


quarter  a Kirghiz  yuz-bashi  (chief  of  100  men)  was  asked  by 
Mi  Darin,  commandant  of  Tash-kurgan,  how  many  men  there 
were  at  Su-bashi.  The  chief  replied,  “ Thirty.”  Thereupon 
Mi  Darin  wrote  to  his  colleague,  Shi  Darin,  asking  if  the 
statement  was  correct.  Shi  Darin  promptly  sent  for  the 
yuz-bashi,  and  beat  him,  asking  him  how  he  dared  to  count 
the  garrison,  or  even  presume  to  think  about  its  size. 

The  Chinese  troops  at  Su-bashi  were  armed  with  half  a 
dozen  English  rifles  and  an  equal  number  of  Russian;  except 
for  these,  their  principal  weapons  were  Chinese  bows  and 
lances.  The  European  rifles  were  in  bad  condition,  not  hav- 
ing been  cared  for.  I myself  saw  two  or  three  of  the  troops 
stick  their  rifle-barrels  downward  into  a muddy  brook  and  use 
them  as  jumping-poles  to  get  across  with.  Less  than  a dozen 
of  their  horses  were  really  serviceable  animals;  the  others 
were  nothing  better  than  sorry  caravan  horses.  Drill,  rifle- 
practice,  or  other  military  duties  are  seldom  performed. 
Tosrdasin  told  me  that  the  entire  garrison,  the  commandant 
included,  spend  days  and  days  smoking  opium,  gambling, 
eating,  drinking,  and  sleeping.  These  frontier  garrisons  are 
relieved  at  irregular  intervals  from  Kashgar,  Yarkand,  and 
Yanghi-hissar ; and  three  or  four  times  a year  are  supplied 
with  provisions  by  means  of  caravans  from  the  same  towns. 
The  Kirghiz  pay  no  taxes  to  them,  but  are  under  the  obliga- 
tion to  supply  half  a dozen  sheep  every  month,  for  which  the 
Chinese  pay  at  the  rate  of  about  one-half  or  one-third  of  their 
real  value. 


CllAFTKR  XXIV 


A M()X(;  'I'H  E KIRGHIZ 

I GRADUALLY  leariiccl  to  have  much  sympathy  with  the 
Kirghiz.  1 lived  among  them  for  four  months  a solitary 
European,  and  yet  never  once,  during  all  that  time,  felt 
lonely.  The  friendship  and  hospitality  they  showed  me 
never  wavered.  They  shared  with  willing  pleasure  in  the 
hardships  of  my  nomad  existence ; and  some  of  them  were  at 
my  side  in  every  sort  of  weather,  took  j^art  in  all  my  excur- 
sions, all  my  mountain  ascents,  all  my  exj)editions  across  and 
to  the  glaciers.  In  fact,  I won  a certain  measure  of  popu- 
larity in  the  valley  of  Sarik-kol.  The  people  came  from  far 
and  near  to  visit  me  at  my  camping-stations,  bringing  me 
presents  of  sheep,  wild  ducks,  partridges,  bread,  yaks’  milk 
and  cream.  And  almost  invariably,  when  I drew  near  to  an 
aid,  I was  met  by  a troop  of  horsemen  and  escorted  to  the 
beg’s  yurt,  given  the  place  of  honor  near  the  fire,  and  offered 
dastarkhan  (refreshments). 

But  the  little  ones  entertained  me  most.  Many  of  them 
were  such  sweet,  pretty  little  things,  as  they  ran  about  with 
a colored  cap  on  their  head,  and  not  a stitch  else  on  them, 
unless  it  were  their  father’s  huge  skin  boots,  that  I sometimes 
found  it  hard  to  tear  myself  away  from  them.  At  the  first 
glance  of  such  a strange  apparition  as  my  sjjectacles  and  my 
strange  clothes  they  generally  fied  and  hid  behind  their 
mothers,  or  concealed  themselves  in  their  favorite  hiding- 
places  in  the  yurt;  but  the  offer  of  a lump  of  sugar  quickly 
won  their  confidence.  On  their  part,  too,  the  Kirghiz  soon 
understood  that  I regarded  them  as  friends,  and  felt  at  home 
among  them.  I lived  constantly  in  their  yurts,  ate  the  same 
food  they  did,  rode  their  yaks,  wandered  from  district  to  dis- 


THROUGH  ASIA 


278 

trict  as  they  did — in  a word,  became  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses a full-blooded  Kirghiz,  They  often  used  to  say  to  me  • 
Stz  tndi  Kirghiz  bo  oldiniz"  (You  have  become  a Kirghiz 
now). 

Three  months  earlier  I had  experienced  nothing  but  kind- 
ness at  the  hands  of  Togdasin  Beg,  chief  of  the  Kirghiz  of 
Sarik-kol,  and  their  intermediary  with  Jan  Darin  at  Bulun-kul. 
On  this  the  occasion  of  my  second  visit  he  welcomed  me  like 
an  old  acquaintance,  showing  me  every  attention,  and  honor- 
ing me  with  the  choicest  delicacies  of  the  Kirghiz  cuisine. 
He  asserted  that  a day  or  two’s  rest  in  his  yurt  was  absolutely 
indispensable  for  me  before  I went  on  to  visit  his  neighbor, 
Mus-tagh-ata,  a chieftain  who  from  a sublimer  tent  commands 
authority  over  a greater  race  of  subjects.  I was  very  glad  to 
accept  his  insistent  hospitality,  for  I wanted  to  engage  men 
and  yaks  for  the  summer.  For  July  i ith  my  host  planned  a 
grand  surprise.  Being  anxious  to  show  me  the  full  glory  of 
Su-bashi  and  the  neighboring  yeylaus  (summer  camps),  he 
made  arrangements  ioxdibaiga,  or  “ mounted  games  which, 
although  as  but  a drop  in  the  ocean  when  compared  with  a 
parade  of  imperial  troops,  nevertheless,  for  romantic  and 
fascinating  effects,  probably  exceeded  anything  household 
troops  can  produce. 

During  the  course  of  the  morning  the  flower  of  the  man- 
hood in  the  district  rode  towards  the  higher-lying  auls  in  the 
plain  of  Irik-yak,  where  the  games  were  to  take  place.  On 
they  rode,  troop  after  troop.  Towards  noon  I too  went  in 
the  same  direction,  escorted  by  a body-guard  of  forty-two 
Kirghiz  wearing  their  best  khalats.  And  what  varieties  of 
color  ! Khalats  of  every  conceivable  shade,  check  girdles, 
daggers  and  knives,  baldrics  with  jingling  vade-mecums — a 
piece  of  steel  for  striking  fire,  an  awl,  tobacco-pouch,  etc., 
head-coverings  of  every  variety,  mostly,  however,small,  round, 
black,  close-fitting  caps  {calottes),  embroidered  in  red  and 
yellow  and  blue.  Closely  surrounded  by  this  gay  holiday 
throng,  I involuntarily  felt,  in  my  plain  gray  travelling-suit, 
like  a dervish  among  better  folk.  The  sole  ornament  which 
gave  a little  brightness  to  my  outward  man  was  my  compass 


KIRGHIZ  MOTHER  WITH  HER  BOYS 


.\Moxc;  THH  kir(;hiz 


2iS  I 

chain,  which,  without  much  stretch  of  the  imagination,  the 
Kirghiz  might  easily  have  taken  to  be  pure  gold.  Of  the 
elders  none  made  such  a brave  show  as  'rogdasin  Beg  and 
I'ogda  Mohammed  I^eg.  chieftain  of  the  Kirghiz  who  dwelt 
on  the  east  side  of  Mus-tagh-ata.  'I'he  former  wore  an  orange 
yellow  gala  khalat,  edged  with  gold  brocade,  which  1 had 
brought  him  as  a present  from  Kashgar  the  day  before. 
Chance  seemed  to  have  played  the  chief  part  in  determining 
the  choice  of  attire  in  the  case  of  the  latter;  for  the  colors 
were  decidedlv  loud — a long  navv-blue  khalat,  girdled  by  a 
broad  light-blue  sash,  and  a violet  bag-cap  with  a gold  ribbon 
round  ir.  I'lie  wearer  was  a tall  and  strikingly  typical  Kir- 
ghiz, with  oblic|ue,  narrow  eyes,  prominent  cheek-bones,  thin 
black  beard  and  coarse  mustaches,  and  rode  a big  coal-black 
horse  of  some  foreign  breed.  .Add  to  this  the  scimitar  which 
dangled  at  his  side  in  a black  scabbard,  and  you  have  a picture 
of  a true  .Asiatic  Don  Oui.xote. 

We  drew  near  to  the  upper  villages,  in  and  about  which 
the  bands  of  horsemen  grew  thicker  and  thicker.  1 was  con- 
ducted to  the  place  of  honor  in  the  middle  of  the  plain,  where 
I found  awaiting  me  Khoat  Beg,  a fine  old  chieftain,  one 
hundred  and  eleven  years  old,  surrounded  by  five  of  his  sons 
— gray  old  men  they  were,  too — and  a score  of  other  horse- 
men.  .Although  the  aged  patriarch’s  back  was  a little  bent 
under  the  burden  of  his  years,  he  nevertheless  sat  his  saddle 
with  as  firm  a seat  and  as  proud  a bearing  as  any  among 
them.  He  wore  a violet  khalat,  lined  with  fur,  brown  skin 
boots,  and  a brown  turban.  He  had  striking  features — a large 
Roman  nose,  short  white  beard  e.xtending  under  the  chin,  and 
deep-sunk,  gray  eyes,  which  seemed  to  li\  e more  in  the  memo- 
ries of  the  past  than  in  the  actual  observations  of  the  present. 
His  people  manifested  the  greatest  veneration  towards  him, 
some  of  the  begs  hastening  to  throw  themselves  from  their 
horses  in  order  to  pay  their  respects  to  him  — all  which 
he  took  with  the  imperturbable  majesty  of  a god.  The  old 
man  had  formerly  been  Chong  Beg  (principal  chieftain) 
over  the  Sarik-kol  Kirghiz,  a dignity  which  had  passed  from 
father  to  son  in  his  family  through  seven  generations  before 


282 


THROUGH  ASIA 


him,  partly  as  independent  chiefs,  partly  under  foreign  domi- 
nation. 

When  not  absorbed  in  his  own  meditations,  the  old  man 
was  very  talkative,  and  plainly  enjoyed  telling  what  he  could 
remember  of  past  times  and  his  own  family  circumstances. 

He  had  seven  sons  and  five  daughters,  forty-three  grand- 
children, and  sixteen  great-grandchildren.  Nearly  all  of  them 


A KIUCUIIZ  BAIGA 


lived  together  in  one  community,  a large  aul  (tent-village), 
which  in  summer  was  pitched  beside  Lake  Kara-kul,  and  in 
winter  near  Bassyk-kul.  His  eldest  son,  Oshur  Beg,  an  un- 
usually facetious  old  man,  who  gradually  attached  himself  to 
me,  told  me  that  his  father,  Khoat  Beg,  in  the  course  of  his 
long  life,  had  had  four  Kirghiz  wives,  two  of  whom  still  lived, 
old  women  of  ninety,  besides  one  hundred  Sart  wives,  whom 
he  bought  at  different  times  in  Kashgar,  and  whom  he  suc- 
cessively discarded  when  he  grew  tired  of  them, 

Khoat  Beg  took  such  a strong  fancy  to  my  sj)ectacles  that 
he  asked  me  to  give  him  them  ; but  as  I could  not  do  without 
them  1 told  him  that,  as  he  had  managed  to  get  along  without 
such  things  for  one  hundred  and  eleven  years,  I thought  he 


AMONG  Till*  KIRGHIZ 


might  do  without  them  a little  bit  longer.  I afterwards  made 
him  presents  of  cloth,  caj)s,  and  handkerchiefs.  Later  on  in 
the  autumn  the  old  chief  was  to  go  with  one  of  his  sons  to 
\’anghi-hissar,  climbing  a pass  which  came  within  about  350 
feet  of  the  altitude  of  Mont  Hlanc.  1 le  was  going  to  look 
at  some  land  he  owned  there,  as  well  as  to  indulge  in  a lit- 
tle merrymaking  before  the  beginning  of  the  long  winter 
sleep. 

A he-goat,  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  word  a scape-goat,  was 
dragged  in  front  of  us.  A Kirghiz  sliced  the  animal’s  head 
off  with  a single  sweep  of  his  knife,  and  let  the  blood  .flow 
until  it  ceased  of  itself,  d'he  carcass  was,  so  to  sjjeak,  the 
prize  of  the  subsequent  mimic  warfare,  the  object  of  the  con- 
testants being  to  obtain  possession  of  it. 

.A  man  came  forward,  caught  u])  the  sheep  across  his  horse, 
and  rode  away  with  it.  We  waited  a few’  minutes.  Then  w’e 
saw’  a troop  of  horsemen  approaching  at  a furious  gallo}). 
Eighty  horses’  hoofs  rang  on  the  hard  ground  — the  grass 
gnawed  off  to  the  very  roots  by  the  sheep.  The  din  was 
deafening.  Wild,  shrill  shouts  mingled  with  the  jingling  of 
the  stirrups.  On  they  came,  enveloped  in  a cloud  of  dust. 
'I'he  foremost  horseman  Hung  the  dead  goat  immediately  in 
front  of  my  horse’s  fore-feet.  Like  a horde  of  Huns  or  a band 
of  robbers  they  dashed  past  us,  aw’ay  across  the  plain.  But 
wheeling  smartly  round,  they  w’ere  soon  back  again  at  the 
spot  w’here  we  stood.  The  person  w’ho  is  thus  honored  w’ith 
having  the  dead  goat  flung  dow’ii  before  him  is  expected 
to  testify  his  sense  of  the  favor  conferred  in  some  tangible 
fashion,  either  bv  offering  dastarkhan  — w’hich  is  w’l-^at  the 
Kirghiz  usually  do — or  by  the  present  of  a handful  of  silver 
tengeJi  (about  2\d.  each),  wdiich  w’as  what  I offered  on  this 
occasion. 

We  had  barely  time  to  draw’  back  before  the  w’ild  troop 
were  upon  us  again.  They  flung  themselves  upon  the  still 
smoking  carcass  of  the  goat,  and  began  to  struggle  for  it  as 
though  they  were  fighting  for  a bagful  of  gold.  All  I could 
see  of  them  w’as  an  indistinguishable  confusion  of  horses  and 
men  enveloped  in  a cloud  of  dust.  Some  of  the  horses  fell ; 


284 


THROUGH  ASIA 


others  reared;  others  shied.  Holding  fast  to  their  saddles, 
the  riders  leaned  over  towards  the  ground  and  snatched  at 
the  carcass  as  they  swept  past  it.  Some  fell  off  and  were 
nearly  trampled  under  foot.  Others  clung  underneath  their 
horses’  bellies.  All  grasped  at  the  goat,  tugging  and  hauling 
in  the  wildest  disarray.  The  stragglers  in  the  gallop,  the 
new  arrivals,  all  plunged  headlong  into  the  melee  as  though 
they  would  ride  right  over  the  mass  of  struggling  horsemen. 
The  men  shouted.  The  horses  whinnied.  The  dust  rolled 
up  in  clouds.  The  contestants  were  allowed  to  practise 
certain  artifices,  such  as  pulling  at  another  man’s  bridle, 
striking  his  horse  over  the  nose  with  his  whipstock  to 
force  him  back,  or  even  dragging  one  another  out  of  the 
saddle. 

The  confusion  was  still  worse  confounded  by  a couple  of 
champions  who  rode  yaks  with  sharp  horns.  As  these  strong- 
necked animals  pushed  their  way  into  the  melee,  they  kept 
tickling  the  horses  with  their  horns.  This  made  the  horses 
])lunge  and  kick.  The  yaks,  irritated  by  the  kicks,  thrust 
themselves  in  all  the  more  stubbornly,  till  the  contest  began 
to  look  remarkably  like  a bull-fight.  At  length  one  of  the 
men  got  a firm  hold  upon  the  goat’s  skin.  He  snatched  the 
body  up,  clasped  it  tight  between  his  knee  and  his  saddle, 
and,  bursting  out  of  the  throng,  galloped  away  like  the  wind, 
describing  a wide  circle  round  the  plain.  Hard  after  him 
raced  all  the  others.  They  disappeared  from  sight  in  the 
distance.  Two  or  three  minutes  passed.  Again  the  dull 
thud,  thud  of  scores  of  horses’  hoofs  beating  the  ground. 
.Straight  down  upon  us  they  charged,  oblivious  of  all  hin- 
derances.  Another  moment  and  they  would  have  ridden  over 
us  and  crushed  us.  We  could  not  get  out  of  their  way.  But 
when  within  two  or  three  yards  of  us  they  wheeled  sharply 
off,  stilt  going  at  a headlong  pace.  Once  more  the  goat,  now 
bruised  into  an  indistinguishable  mass  of  flesh,  was  Hung  at 
our  feet,  and  then  the  struggle  began  again.  This  went  on 
time  after  time. 

I remarked  to  Khoat  Beg  that  it  was  a good  thing  for  us 
old  folk  to  be  safe  outside  the  scrimmage.  The  old  chief 


AMONG  THH  KIRCilllZ 


287 


laughed  and  said  he  fancied  it  must  be  wellnigh  a hundred 
years  since  he  was  my  age.  I let  him  surmise  that,  in  point 
of  fact,  he  was  nearly  four  times  as  old  as  1 was. 

Meanwhile  'I'ogdasin  Beg  became  so  e.xcited  by  the  mimic 
battle  that  he  flung  himself  into  the  thick  of  it,  and 
actually  succeeded  in  gaining  possession  of  the  goat,  and 
made  his  horse  leap  to  one  side.  Ifut  getting  a few  Chi- 
nese hieroglyphics  wealed  across  his  face  and  nose  in 
crimson,  he  became  as  cjuiet  as  a lamb,  and,  jHilling  his 
horse  in  beside  ours,  was  content  to  sit  still  and  remain  an 
onlooker. 

While  the  sport  lasted  most  of  the  particijxators  in  it  took 
off  their  khalats ; indeed,  some  of  them  had  the  right  side  of 
the  upper  part  of  their  body  naked.  With  but  very  few' 
exceptions  every  man  came  out  of  the  contest  with  some  sort 
of  wound  or  scratch.  Several  of  them  had  their  faces  so 
bloody  that  they  rode  off  to  the  nearest  brook  to  wash  them- 
selves. Nor  were  limping  horses  a rare  sight.  Caps  and 
whips  lay  scattered  all  over  the  ground,  and,  the  game  at  an 
end,  I saw  their  owners  wandering  about  over  the  battle-field 
looking  for  them.  To  tell  the  truth,  it  amazed  me  there  were 
no  serious  mishaps.  The  reason  of  there  being  none  is  that 
from  their  earliest  years  the  Kirghiz  grow  up  on  horseback, 
and  so  become  habited — become  skilled  in  all  that  belongs 
to  horsemanship.  This  exciting  and  dangerous  sport  being 
concluded,  the  chief  men  present  were  invited  to  dastarkhan 
in  the  tent  of  the  nearest  beg.  There  we  were  entertained 
by  the  musicians  of  the  neighborhood  to  a “chamber  con- 
cert.” 

I had  been  obliged  to  dismiss  my  interpreter,  the  Taranchi 
Daod,  He  turned  out  to  be  a self-willed  individual,  and  was 
not  very  accurate  in  his  Chinese  interpretations.  Immedi- 
ateJy  after  arriving  at  Su-bashi  he  added  to  these  accomplish- 
ments by  beginning  to  gamble  with  the  Chinese,  and  in  one 
day  lost  40  tengeh.  When,  therefore,  I sent  back  the  kara- 
kesh  (horse  - owner)  I hired  at  Kashgar,  together  with  his 
horses,  Daod  received  his  orders  to  go  with  him.  Thus  of 
the  men  who  left  Kashgar  with  me  the  only  one  remaining 


288 


THROUGH  ASIA 


was  my  faithful  Islam  Bai.  I now  further  engaged  two  trust- 
worthy Kirghiz — namely,  Yehim  Bai  and  Mollah  Islam,  both 
of  whom  did  excellent  service  during  the  journeys  of  the 
summer.  In  addition  to  these  men,  I employed  others  for 
shorter  periods,  as  well  as  horses. 


CHAPTKR  XXV 


LITTLE  KARA-KUL  LARK 

I HAD  chosen  Little  Kara-Kul  lake  as  a su’table  starting- 
point  for  my  summer’s  cartographical  labors  and  excursions, 
and  accordingly  journeyed  thither  on  July  12th,  to  take  j)os- 
session  of  a yurt  which  had  been  put  up  by  agreement  on  its 
southern  shore. 

On  the  way,  near  a few  small  auls,  we  witnessed  another 
baiga,  which  was,  if  j)ossible,  more  turbulent  than  the  j)re- 
vious  one.  A rider  came  tearing  past  with  a live  goat  on  his 
saddle,  chopped  its  head  off  at  one  blow,  and  with  the  drip- 
])ing  body  dangling  against  his  horse’s  side  began  to  career 
wildly  round  the  auls.  Hard  after  him  followed  the  rest. 
Hut  the  man  had  a first-rate  horse,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
third  round  had  been  completed  that  he  was  caught,  and  the 
goat  taken  from  him  and  dashed  at  my  feet,  raising  a cloud 
of  dust.  One  or  two  of  the  men  got  ugly  tumbles,  and  a 
yuz-bashi  scraped  his  face  against  the  ground,  but  went  on, 
however,  scarred  and  bloody,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
After  taking  dastarkhan  (refreshments)  we  rode  down  to  the 
lake,  followed  by  the  tumultuous  troop,  who  still  continued 
their  mimic  contest;  and  we  were  not  sorry  when  soon  after- 
wards they  disappeared,  and  we  were  left  to  settle  down  in 
peace  in  our  lonely  tent. 

This  was  pitched  close  to  the  shore,  and  in  front  of  it 
spread  the  blue  waters  of  the  little  lake,  disappearing  in  the 
mist.  Togdasin  Beg  and  a few  other  friends  came  with  us 
and  were  invited  to  tea.  They  stopped  until  it  began  to 
grow  dark ; and  the  festive  feeling  was  enhanced  by  a mu- 
sician, who  performed  on  a stringed  instrument  called  a 
muss.  The  victor  of  the  baiga  came  to  see  me,  and  pre- 
I.— 19 


290 


THROUGH  ASIA 


sented  me  with  a can  of  kumiss  (fermented  mare’s-milk) ; it 
was  sour  and  cold,  and  tasted  excellent.  The  only  drawback 
to  our  camping-ground  was  the  myriads  of  mosquitoes  swarm- 
ing over  the  flat  shore  of  the  lake,  which  was  intersected  in 
all  directions  by  pools  and  arms  from  the  glacier  stream. 

July  13th  was  our  first  working-day  by  the  lake.  As  we 
found  that  the  south  shore,  permeated  as  it  was  by  stagnant 
water,  would  probably  be  unhealthy  for  a lengthened  stay,  we 
decided  to  move  to  a suitable  spot  on  the  east  side;  and  ac- 
cordingly the  next  day  the  men  packed  up  our  goods  and  chat- 
tels, and  we  moved  over.  I myself  took  a couple  of  Kirghiz 
with  me  and  mapped  the  outline  of  the  lake  with  the  plane- 
table  and  diopter,  continuing  the  work  till  I reached  the  new 
camping  - station.  On  the  way  I paid  a short  visit  to  old 
Khoat  Beg,  who  was  encamped  there  with  six  yurts. 

At  the  southeast  corner  of  the  lake,  in  a narrow  opening  in 
the  rock,  we  saw  the  Sarik-tumshuk-masar  (the  Saint’s  Grave 
on  the  Yellow  Cape),  decorated  with  yaks’  tails  and  rags.  A 
clear  spring  gushed  out  at  the  base  of  the  steep  schistose 
rocks  with  a temperature  of  47.1°  Fahr.  (8.4’’  C.). 

Our  steps  now  bore  directly  along  the  shore,  where  the 
ruptured  ends  of  the  stratified  schistose  rocks  fell  sheer  into 
the  lake,  often  necessitating  our  riding  in  the  water. 

On  our  left  stretched  the  lake,  its  surface  var^’ing  from  a 
pretty  light  green  to  deep  navy  blue,  blotched  here  and  there 
with  streaks  of  dirty  yellow  mud  brought  down  by  the 
streams.  On  the  west  shore  rose  the  huge  rocky  wall  of  the 
Sarik-kol  chain,  with  its  out-jutting  promontories  just  visible 
through  the  hazy  atmosphere. 

When  I arrived  at  the  new  camjD,  everything  was  in  order; 
the  yurt  had  been  put  up  close  to  the  shore,  on  a little  patch 
of  luxuriant  grass  between  it  and  the  mountain,  and  there 
our  horses  were  contentedly  grazing. 

Yolldash  (the  Travelling  Companion),  a wretched  Kirghiz 
dog,  which,  like  the  late  Yollchi,  had  joined  our  exj)edition 
as  a volunteer,  and  w'as  greatly  valued  by  my  men,  had  al- 
ready made  himself  at  home  and  was  guarding  the  tent. 
When  we  first  made  his  accpiaintance,  he  was  travelling  with 


LITTLK  KARA-KUL  LAKH 


29 1 

some  Chinese  horsemen,  who  had  visibly  reduced  him  to  the 
brink  of  starvation.  However,  when  the  dog  saw  us  he 
thought  that,  no  matter  who  we  might  be,  we  should  surely 
be  better  than  the  Chinese,  so  he  turned  back  with  us.  I 
thought  the  creature  so  starved  and  miserable  that  I wanted 
to  send  him  away.  Hut  my  men  begged  so  hard  for  the  new 
member  of  the  exjjedition  that  I gave  way  ; and  he  followed 
us  faithfully  for  a long  while,  lie  had  a fine  time  of  it  now, 
ate  as  much  as  he  liked,  and  enjoyed  the  sole  right  to  the  re- 
mains of  our  meals.  He  soon  picked  up,  and  grew  into  an 
unusually  good  and  handsome  dog.  He  was  the  best  of 
watch-dogs  and  the  best  of  companions,  and  when,  later  on, 
we  made  a second  visit  to  the  Russian  Pamirs,  he  became  a 
ereat  favorite  amoim  the  officers  on  account  of  his  liveliness. 
By  degrees  he  grew  to  be  such  a comjianion  to  me  that  1 
could  not  do  without  him,  and  when,  about  a year  later,  he 
died  of  thirst  in  the  Takla-makan  Desert,  the  parting  was 
really  bitter. 

W’e  bought  a sheep,  which  we  now  proceeded  to  kill,  and 
all  had  a good  meal.  Islam  roasted  a c/iiss/ik  (steak  or  chop); 
the  Kirghiz  provided  us  with  yak’s  milk;  rice  and  tea  we  had 
ourselves,  so  that  we  could  not  have  fared  better. 

That  evening  the  sunset  was  beautiful,  and  threw  a pecul- 
iar light  on  the  clouds  and  western  mountains,  which  were 
illumined  with  various  shades  of  sfrav  and  yellow.  The  wind 
had  been  in  the  north,  but  towards  evening  went  round  to 
the  east ; and  the  waves,  which  broke  against  the  stony  beach 
with  a sleepy,  melodious  murmur,  were  crested  with  dancing 
white  horses.  The  moon  soon  rose  over  this  beautiful  pict- 
ure ; and,  the  temperature  being  pleasantly  warm  (62.6°  Pahr. 
or  I 7°  C.),  we  were  able  to  enjoy  our  new  camp,  which  was 
called  Yanikkeh,  to  the  utmost. 

The  following  is  a series  of  notes  from  my  diary  just  as  I 
wrote  them  down: 

“July  14th.  After  the  first  meteorological  observation  of 
the  day  had  been  taken,  we  made  a little  botanical  trip  in  the 
neicjhborhood  and  collected  aDae  from  two  or  three  lagoons 
alono;  the  shore. 

o 


292 


THROUGH  ASIA 


“ About  one  o’clock  a violent  squall  passed  over  the  country, 
with  sharp  gusts  of  wind  and  rain,  which,  however,  did  not 
last  long.  The  white-crested  waves  were  driven  up  to  a con- 
siderable height,  and  dashed  noisily  against  the  beach.  The 
sky  was  heavy  and  black  with  rain-clouds,  chasing  each  other 
to  the  south.  During  the  forenoon  the  mountains  had  been 
shrouded  in  the  usual  dust-haze,  but  the  rain  cleared  the  air, 
so  that  we  could  now  see  the  white  snow-fields  of  Mus-tagh- 
ata  shining;  through  the  broken  clouds  with  dazzling  brill- 
iance.  The  surface  of  the  lake  passed  through  the  most  won- 


WEST  SHORE  OF  LITTLE  KAKA-KUL 


derful  changes  of  color;  near  the  western  and  southern  shores 
it  was  such  a bright  green  that  the  boldest  impressionist 
would  not  have  dared  to  paint  it  as  it  actually  was.  Farther 
out  it  was  striped  with  violet,  while  near  the  eastern  shore  the 
water  was  dark  blue.  Gray  and  gloomy  stood  the  mountain 
giants,  keej)ing  guard  over  the  little  Alpine  lake  which  lay 
cradled  between  their  lofty  crests.  'Fhere  was  a fiat  stretch 
of  fine  pasture  along  the  south  shore,  but  on  our  side,  with 
the  exception  of  the  little  meadow  where  we  were  encamped, 
the  mountains  rose  sheer  from  the  lake. 

“ It  was  not  till  the  afternoon  that  the  weather  permitted 
a short  toj)ograi)hical  excursion  in  the  neighborhood;  even 
then  we  were  overtaken  by  sharp  showers  of  rain,  and  heard 


LITTLK  KARA-KUL  LAKE 


293 


the  thunder  rumbling  among  the  clefts  of  Mus-tagh-ata.  We 
wandered  through  a tyi)ical  moraine  landscape,  where  wide 
tracts  were  strewn  with  mounds  of  grit  and  bowlders  of  all 
sizes;  nearly  all  the  latter  being  of  different  kinds  of  gneiss 
and  schist,  chiefly  crystalline  mica-schist. 

“ 'I'hese  collections  of  gravel  and  grit  sometimes  formed 
continuous  ridges,  sometimes  isolated  cones.  Not  seldom 
they  formed  cin]7ics,  fifty  to  two  hundred  yards  in  diameter, 
with  a rampart  round,  the  last  sometimes  completely  closed, 
sometimes  with  a single  opening.  Some  of  these  cirques  had 
a cone,  others  a cavity,  in  the  middle. 

“Several  bowlders  were  very  highly  polished,  or  striated; 
and  everything  tended  to  show  that  we  were  in  a tract  from 
which  a glacier  had  once  receded.  One  of  these  bowlders 
particularly  attracted  my  attention,  and  was  chosen  as  a topo- 
graphical fixed -point  on  account  of  its  dominant  position. 
Its  surface,  two  yards  long  and  one  broad,  was  smooth  and 
polished,  and  on  it  was  roughly  but  characteristically  depicted 
six  tekkes  (wild  goats).  The  brown  gneiss  rock  had  been 
scratched  away  with  a sharp  stone,  or  perhaps  an  iron  tool, 
and  the  design  stood  out  in  relief  in  dull  gray.  The  Kirghiz 
could  tell  me  nothing  about  the  picture,  except  that  they 
thought  it  was  very  old. 

“ We  discovered  that  the  north  end  of  the  enormous  moraine 
fell  sheer  down  to  a river,  which  was  almost  entirely  fed  by 
the  melting  of  the  glaciers  and  snow-fields.  The  stream  was 
called  the  Ike-bel-su  (the  River  from  the  Two  Passes),  and 
flowed  through  the  Sarik-kol  valley,  then  broke  through  the 
Mus-tagh  chain,  and  under  the  name  of  the  Ghez-daria  (as  I 
have  already  mentioned  in  a previous  chapter)  reached  the 
plains  near  Kashgar. 

“ From  the  summit  of  the  moraine  we  had  a splendid  view 
over  the  upper  reaches  of  the  river,  rolling  down  its  current 
as  if  issuing  from  a rocky  portal  between  the  lofty  snow- 
covered  mountains.  On  through  the  valley  it  wound,  some- 
times narrow  and  foaming,  sometimes  calm  and  broad,  with 
grass -grown  banks,  on  which  were  two  or  three  Kirghiz 
aids. 


294 


THROUGH  ASIA 


“ \\4ien  we  again  returned  to  camp  over  another  part  of 
the  moraine-ridge,  we  found  that  the  Kirghiz  had  procured 
another  big  yurt,  and  in  it  my  men  settled  down  with  the 
kitchen  paraphernalia. 

“ Immediately  southeast  of  the  camp  there  was  a dominant 
mountain  of  black  schist,  called  Kara-kir  (the  Black  Peaks): 
and  as  it  seemed  to  promise  a splendid  point  of  vantage  for 
surveying  the  neighboring  country,  I wished  to  ascend  it  as 
early  as  possible,  which  we  did  on  July  15th. 

“ The  panorama  which  unfolded  itself  to  my  view  when  we 
reached  the  top  exceeded  my  most  sanguine  expectations. 
The  long  moraine-ridge,  with  its  labyrinth  of  cones  and  grit- 
mounds,  appeared  from  that  elevated  point  of  view  to  dwindle 
to  insignificance,  and  the  green -banked  ribbon  of  the  Ike- 
bel-su  winding  through  the  gray  scenery  formed  a particu- 
larly marked  feature  in  the  landscape.  But  the  sublime 
grandeur  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata,  whose  white  crests  were  visi- 
ble between  the  clouds,  completely  dwarfed  everything  else. 
Fantastic,  inky-black  rocks  broke  up  through  the  expanses  of 
snow,  some  attaining  an  altitude  of  20,000  feet;  and  above 
them  again  towered  the  spotless  dome.  The  east  side  of  the 
mountain  was  so  precipitous  and  irregular  that  I perceived 
at  once  from  its  shape  it  must  be  quite  inaccessible.  The 
northern  versant  presented  a confused  medley  of  rocks,  snow- 
fields,  and  glaciers.  On  the  other  hand,  the  western  declivi- 
ties were  particularly  even  and  rounded,  towards  the  summit 
the  angle  being  only  twenty-two  degrees;  while  on  the  east 
side  the  inclination  varied  from  thirty  to  forty-eight  degrees. 

“ The  Tegherman-tash-su  (the  Millstone  Brook),  which  fell 
into  the  Ike-bel-su,  was  divided  at  its  mouth  into  five  arms, 
flowing  over  a talus  slope  or  sort  of  sloj)ing  delta,  partly 
formed  by  its  own  glacial  ciebt'is  and  mud. 

“ In  the  southwest  we  saw  the  broad,  level  valley  of 
Su-bashi,  with  its  river  also  forming  a delta,  and  its  marshes 
and  innumerable  miniature  lakes  laced  like  beads  on  a mat. 

“ In  the  west  also  there  was  a grand  ])anorama.  'I'he  bright 
surface  of  Little  Kara-kul,  lying  between  the  massive  moun- 
tain-chains, immediately  underneath  our  feet,  a])j)eared  quite 


LITTLE  KARA-KUL  LAKE 


295 


small  in  comparison  with  their  overwhelming  masses.  Its 
light-green  surface  contrasted  forcibly  with  its  own  dark-green 
grassy  shores,  and  with  the  gray  mountain-walls  broken  here 
and  there  by  moraine  deposits.  Sometimes  the  grass  trenched 
a little  upon  the  lake ; but  it  was  nowhere  broad,  except  on 
the  southern  shore.  The  light  fleecy  clouds  were  reflected 
in  the  water  as  their  shadows  glided  over  it.  The  turbid 
yellow  flood  of  the  Su-bashi,  which  debouched  on  the  south, 
wound  through  the  lake  like  a dirty  ribbon.  Immediately  in 
front  of  us,  near  the  west  shore,  there  was  a little  island,  the 
only  one  in  the  Kara-kul,  if  we  except  a few  small  green  plots 
which  have  become  detached  from  the  grassy  southern  shore. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  lake  the  Sarik-kol  chain  faded  away 
towards  the  north  and  west. 

“ 'I'he  northern  shore  of  Little  Kara-kul  was  a moraine 
wall,  a continuation  of  that  already  desci  ibed ; that  is  the 
reason  why  the  outline  of  that  shore  was  so  very  irregular. 
'I'he  moraine  was  intersected  by  a stream  which  issued  from 
the  lake,  which  was  also  conspicuous  from  its  green  grassy 
banks;  farther  down  it  united  with  the  Ike-bel-su.  In  the 
northwest,  beyond  the  Kara-kul,  we  could  see  the  two  basins 
of  Bassyk-kul. 

“ About  mid-day  we  were  again  overtaken  by  a storm  of 
rain  and  hail,  but  continued  our  way  till  we  were  sent  home 
by  really  bad  weather.  I now  felt  that  I had  ju'etty  well  taken 
my  bearings ; I had  my  programme  clear,  and  knew  how  and 
on  what  plan  the  mountain  should  be  attacked. 

“ Every  evening  after  dark  I held  a levee  in  my  tent.  The 
Kirghiz  came  from  far  and  near,  and  alwavs  brought  with 
them  welcome  gifts  of  sheep,  partridges,  new  bread,  fresh 
yak’s  milk  and  cream  ; in  return  for  which  they  received 
money,  pieces  of  cloth,  caps,  knives,  etc.,  which  I had  brought 
from  Tashkend  for  the  purpose.  In  a short  time  we  had  a 
whole  circle  of  friends,  and  felt  cjuite  at  home  in  the  place. 
During  our  later  excursions  we  never  passed  an  aul  without 
going  into  one  of  the  yurts,  and  we  were  always  pretty  sure 
to  find  one  or  two  old  acquaintances.  Our  chief  friend  and 
protector,  however,  was  Togdasin  Beg,  who  often  came  to  see 


296 


THROUGH  ASIA 


us,  and  procured  everything  for  us  that  we  wanted,  such  as 
yaks,  horses,  tents,  and  the  like. 

“The  whole  day  on  July  i6th  there  was  a thick  fog.  In 
the  morning  the  lake  presented  a curious  sight,  as  the  mist 
completely  hid  the  farther  shore  from  view,  and  we  seemed 
to  be  standing  on  the  brink  of  a boundless  sea. 

“ I bade  a couple  of  my  Kirghiz  undress  and  wade  out  into 
the  shallow  water,  to  collect  some  of  the  algce  which  grew 
along  the  shore.  Yolldash  was  also  carried  out,  and  given  a 
thorough  and  much-needed  bath.  The  water  was  not  so  cold 
but  it  could  be  used  for  bathing  purposes.  At  one  o’clock  it 
was  63.7°  Fahr.  (17.6°  C.),  but  it  cooled  off  considerably  during 
the  night.  At  seven  in  the  morning  of  the  same  day  it  was 
53.2°  Fahr.  (11.8°  C.).  On  clear  days  the  water  soon  became 
warm  in  the  shallow  places,  though  naturally  only  the  upper 
layers.  By  mid-day  on  July  i6th,  for  example,  the  radiation 
rose  to  138.2°  F'ahr.  (59°  C.),  although  the  atmosphere  was  not 
clear;  but  at  the  depth  of  4 inches  the  water  was  only  82.4° 
Fahr.  (28°  C.),  which  shows  how  impervious  even  such  a thin 
layer  of  water  is  to  the  direct  heat  of  the  sun. 

“We  made  an  excursion  to  the  confluence  of  the  Kara-kul 
stream  with  the  Ike-bel-su.  At  the  north  end  of  the  lake  we 
found  a large  semicircular  creek  or  bay.  It  was  shallow,  and 
grassy  near  the  shore,  although  the  moraine  came  down  to 
within  50  or  100  yards  of  it.  Near  the  mouth  of  the  river 
the  grass  was  broader  and  more  luxuriant ; but  the  mosquitoes 
swa'-med  over  it  in  thick  clouds,  by  no  means  enhancing  our 
comfort. 

“ The  Kara-kul  stream  issued  from  the  lake  through  a 
trumpet-shaped  creek,  studded  with  erratic  blocks  projecting 
above  the  surface  of  the  water;  shortly  afterwards  it  widened 
out  into  a small  basin,  called  the  Su-karagai-kul  (the  Water- 
Pine  Lake).  North  of  this,  but  not  connected  with  the  river, 
was  another  small  sheet  of  water  called  the  Angher-kul  (the 
Duck  Lake).  Both  basins  were  bordered  with  grass  and 
marsh-land,  interspersed  between  the  moraines  through  which 
the  river  cut  its  way. 

“ little  farther  on  the  gradient  suddenly  became  so  steep 


LITTLK  KARA-KUL  LARK 


297 


that  the  river  broke  into  cataracts  over  the  stony  debris  which 
littered  its  bed,  though  its  banks  were  in  places  still  lined  with 
narrow  strips  of  grass.  On  it  foamed,  its  channel  becoming 
more  and  more  deejdy  eroded,  until  it  emj)tied  itself  into  the 
Ike-bel-su.  Near  its  mouth  the  velocity  decreased  all  of  a 
sudden,  as  if  the  river  had  encountered  a serious  check. 
Sometimes  its  water  was  as  clear  as  crystal,  sometimes  foam- 
ing white,  sometimes  deep  blue,  until  finally  it  mingled  with 
the  main  stream,  which  was  turbid  and  gray  from  the  glacial 
mud,  and  possessed  twenty  times  its  force,  d'he  bed  of 
the  Ike-bel-su  was  excessively  deep,  the  river  having  ener- 
getically carved  its  way  through  conglomerates  1 50  to  300  feet 
high.  It  was  absolutely  imjiossible  to  cross  it.  I put  down 
the  breadth  at  27  yards,  and  the  velocity  was  5.V  feet  in  the 
second. 

“ A deafening  roar  echoed  between  the  perpendicular 
walls;  the  water  dashed  a yard  into  the  air  every  time  it 
encountered  an  obstructing  stone,  and  the  spray  rose  in 
clouds;  but  the  foam  was  hardly  distinguishable,  being  as 
gray  as  the  flood  itself. 

“ A few  yards  below  the  confluence  of  the  Kara-kul,  its 
clear  blue  water,  which  was  pressed  towards  the  left  bank, 
totally  disappeared.  Its  effect  was  only  visible  a short  dis- 
tance, while  its  foam  disappeared  at  once.  With  such  violence 
and  momentum  did  the  enormous  masses  of  water  plunge  on 
their  way  that  we  could  feel  the  ground  vibrating  under  our 
feet. 

“ The  Kara-kul  river  had  a temperature  of  61.9°  F'ahr.  (16.6° 
C.);  the  Ike-bel-su  of  57.9°  Fahr.  (14.4°  C.).  Thus  the  water 
which  came  direct  from  the  glaciers  was  four  or  five  degrees 
colder  than  that  which  lingered  in  the  lake  under  the  sun’s 
rays,  although  the  lake  itself  received  similar  cold  glacial 
streams.  After  depositing  its  glacial  mud  in  Lake  Kara-kul, 
the  stream  became  perfectly  clear. 

“ Between  the  two  water-courses  the  wreat  moraine -bed 

O 

sent  out  a tongue,  thickly  studded  with  chains  of  hills,  ranged 
sometimes  in  rows,  sometimes  in  circles,  crescents,  and  amphi- 
theatres. They  belonged  to  the  terminal  moraine,  which 


2q8 


THROUGH  ASIA 


was  still  standing,  showing  how  far  the  tongue  of  the  Ike- 
bel-su  glacier,  which  has  now  disappeared,  reached  at  one 
time. 

“ On  my  return  I had  a visit  from  Oshur  Beg,  Khoat  Beg’s 
son,  who  brought  me  two  live  wild  geese  caught  at  Bassyk- 
kul,  and  bread,  milk,  and  butter. 

“July  17th.  There  was  a south  wind  blowing  this  morn- 
ing, and  the  water  on  our  shore  was  not  quite  clear,  the  waves 


OUR  CAMR  AT  VANIKKEII,  EASTERN  SHORE  OE  LITTLE  KARA-KUL 

having  brought  sedimentary  matter  from  the  mouth  of  the 
river.  The  beach  round  the  creek  exhibited  plain  indications 
of  the  effect  wrought  by  the  waves  under  the  influence  of  the 
south  wind.  The  water  washed  up  an  even  wall  of  sand  all 
round  the  creek,  leaving  also  a belt  of  dry  seaweed.  We 
started  out  on  an  excursion,  but  were  overtaken  by  such  a 
violent  north-northwesterly  gale  that  we  were  obliged  to  turn 
back.  This  region  is  notorious  for  its  winds.  Those  which 
come  from  the  north  and  south  are  the  most  violent,  as  they 
sweej)  unhindered  through  the  meridional  valley.  In  accord- 
ance with  the  configuration  of  the  country,  the  east  winds  are 


LI  TTLK  KARA-KUL  LAKH 


299 


more  irregular  and  squally,  while  from  the  west,  or  Pamirs,  it 
seldom  blows  at  all. 

“ Yes,  indeed,  the  wind  often  put  our  jiatiencc  to  the  test; 
it  curtailed  or  prevented  the  carrying  out  of  many  plans,  and 
the  whole  summer  long  we  were  very  much  dependent  on 
the  caprices  of  the  weather.  On  unfavorable  days  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  sit  in  the  yurt  and  write,  or  work  out  my 
sketch-maps.  It  was  always  refreshing  to  hear  the  monoto- 
nous song  of  the  waves  on  the  beach.  To-day,  too,  the  lake 
was  greatly  perturbed  ; long  white-topped  waves  crossed  it 
diagonally,  and  cast  up  sand  and  seaweed  on  the  beach,  so 
that  the  water  was  muddy  for  ten  yards  or  more  out  into  the 
lake,  before  the  fresh  green-blue  color  supervened  again.  A 
thick  mist  came  on  by  degrees,  enshrouding  the  Kara-kul,  so 
that  nothing  c.xcept  the  two  points  on  either  side  of  our  creek 
were  visible,  and  they  .seemed  to  be  much  farther  off  than 
they  were  in  reality.  When  one  white  crest  after  the  other 
came  rolling  in  from  out  of  the  mist  I had  the  feeling  of 
standing  by  the  open  sea. 

“Along  the  beach,  near  our  camp,  there  were  two  small 
lagoons,  one  behind  the  other.  The  outer  lagoon  was  con- 
nected with  the  lake,  whence  a deep  narrow  channel  conveyed 
water  to  it  every  time  the  waves  broke.  The  inner  lagoon 
was  separated  from  the  outer  by  a strip  of  land  six  or  seven 
yards  broad,  intersected  by  a narrow  but  deep  channel,  so 
that  even  there  the  water  was  churned  up  by  the  wind.  The 
outer  lagoon  was  separated  from  the  lake  by  a grass-grown 
wall  of  earth  a yard  in  height,  which  threatened  to  give  way 
under  the  continual  beating  of  the  waves.  It  was  evident 
that  the  lake  had  at  one  time  overflowed  our  present  camp- 
ing-ground. The  bottom  of  the  lagoon  was  covered  with 
fine  sand  and  algse,  and  in  its  sheltered  waters  were  tadpoles 
and  water-spiders. 

“ In  the  afternoon  it  rained  hard,  but  about  six  o’clock  sud- 
denly cleared.  All  at  once  we  heard  a rushing  sound,  as 
if  a gale  of  wind  were  approaching  from  the  northwest.  The 
noise  grew  louder  and  louder,  came  nearer  and  nearer.  On 
the  now  calm  and  shining  surface  of  the  lake  a dark  blue 


300 


THROUGH  ASIA 


band  became  visible  on  the  opposite  shore.  It  rapidly  ap- 
proached our  side.  The  wind  howled  and  lashed  the  water, 
and  the  next  moment  a hail-storm  broke  over  us.  It  only 
lasted  a few  moments;  but  the  ground  was  white  with  hail- 
stones a quarter  to  half  an  inch  in  diameter.  They  soon 
melted  in  the  sharp  shower  of  rain  which  followed. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


LirrLE  KARA-Kl'L  LAKE 


( Conti nu^ii ) 


“ It  was  not  necessary  to  stay  long  by  the  Little  Kara-kul 
to  perceive  clearly  its  geological  formation.  I soon  saw  that 
it  was  a moraine  lake,  formed  by  the  damming  of  the  valley 
by  the  moraine  of  the  Ike-bel-su  glacier,  the  remains  of  which 
are  now  pierced  by  the  rivers  that  issue  from  the  lake.  The 
basin,  or  jjart  of  the  valley  dammed  by  the  moraine,  is  filled 
with  glacier  and  spring  water,  which  bring  down  with  them 
large  quantities  of  sediment,  and  this,  in  conjunction  with  the 
drift-sand,  is  gradually  choking  the  net-work  of  lake  streams. 
The  day  will  no  doubt  come  when  they  will  be  effaced  alto- 
gether, and  the  Kara-kul  ri\'er  will  flow  through  the  valley 
in  a continuously  eroded  bed.  The  lake  was  undoubtedly 
much  larger  at  one  time,  when  the  river  flowed  at  the  top  of 
the  moraine,  and  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  digging  down 
through  it.  The  number  of  bowlders  still  cumbering  the  bed 
of  the  river  and  lying  in  its  broad  mouth — fragments  of  the 
former  medial  moraine — testify  to  this ; as  do  the  lagoons 
just  described.  That  the  whole  valley  was  once  cut  off  by 
the  now  defunct  glacier  we  have  unmistakable  proof  in  the 
number  of  gravel -mounds,  ridges,  and  bowlders  which  lie 
scattered  about  on  every  side. 

“ The  material,  consisting  of  fine-grained  mica  schist,  crys- 
talline schist,  pretty,  fine  gray  gneiss,  coarse-grained  gneiss 
with  felspar  crystals,  and  red  varieties  of  the  same,  etc.,  is 
similar  to  that  which  I found  in  the  higher  regions  of  the 

O O 

Mus-tagh-ata.  The  gneiss  bowlders,  which  are  spread  over 
large  areas,  could  only  be  brought  thence,  and  the  force  which 
brought  them  such  long  distances  from  the  solid  mountain 


302 


THROUGH  ASIA 


could  only  be  ice.  Indeed,  they  exhibit  unmistakable  signs 
that  this  was  the  case:  they  are  rounded  or  hollowed  out  like 
bowls,  and  are  much  striated  or  polished  by  attrition. 

“July  1 8th.  I had  now  completed  my  work  on  the  east 
shore  of  the  Kara-kul,  and  determined  to  move  on  to  another 
camping-ground.  I therefore  ordered  the  men,  under  Islam 
Bai’s  supervision,  to  break  up  camp,  and  move  the  tent  and 
baggage  to  a suitable  spot  on  the  shore  of  the  lake  Bassyk- 
kul.  Meanwhile  I myself  went  on  a topographical  trip,  ac- 
companied by  one  of  the  Kirghiz,  intending  to  make  for  the 
new  camp  in  the  evening. 

“We  crossed  the  bed  of  the  moraine  higher  up  than  for- 
merly, and  then  went  down  to  the  aul  of  Keng-shevar,  a place 
of  four  yurts,  lying  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Ike-bel-su.  The 
tents  were  surrounded  by  splendid  pasturage,  and  several  of 
our  friends  lived  there  and  received  us  with  great  cordiality. 
According  to  custom,  the  oldest  inhabitant  of  the  aul  came 
forward  to  meet  the  guest  with  both  hands  to  his  forehead, 
and  then  showed  me  the  way  to  his  yurt,  which  had  been 
hastily  set  to  rights.  A piece  of  carpet  and  one  or  two 
cushions  were  placed  on  the  seat  of  honor,  opposite  the  en- 
trance, and  there  I was  invited  to  sit  down  by  the  fireside. 
The  other  inhabitants  of  the  aul  dropped  in  one  by  one  and 
seated  themselves  round  the  fire,  on  which  was  boiling  an 
iron  pot  containing  tea.  Tea  and  milk  were  served  in  bowls 
of  wood  or  Chinese  porcelain,  and  conversation  was  soon  in 
full  swing.  Sometimes  the  men’s  wives,  with  their  high, 
white,  turban- like  head-gear,  and  some  of  the  young  girls, 
were  also  present;  but  they  did  not  take  part  in  the  con- 
versation. They  only  affected  importance  with  regard  to  the 
fire,  which  they  fed  with  tcsek  (dried  yak-dung),  and  attended 
to  the  management  of  the  household  generally.  These  visits 
were  always  pleasant,  and  had,  further,  the  great  advantage 
that  I was  able  to  glean  valuable  information  as  to  ways  and 
tracks,  climate,  the  migrations  of  the  Kirghiz,  their  manner 
of  livino;,  and  the  like. 

“ Our  hosts  told  us  that  they  spend  the  summer  only  at 
Keng-shevar;  in  the  winter,  this  j)art  being  exposed  to  wind 


LITTLK  KARA-KUL  LAKE 


303 


and  snow,  they  move  on  to  the  Shiiveshteh  kishlaks  (winter 
\ illages),  which  are  situated  farther  up  and  are  more  sheltered 
from  wind  and  weather. 

“ The  Ike-bel-su  presented  quite  a different  appearance 
seen  from  this  little  tent-village  to  what  it  had  at  the  outlet 
of  the  Kara-kul  stream,  being  200  feet  broad,  and  the  velocity 
about  three  feet  in  the  second.  At  the  only  place  where  it 
was  possible  to  ford  it,  we  let  a Kirghiz  ride  over,  and  found 
that  the  ma.ximum  depth  amounted  to  3J  feet;  but  the  bed 
was  tolerably  level  and  did  not  vary  much,  d'he  \olume  was 
2440  cubic  feet  in  the  second,  which  is  remarkable  fora  river 
chietiy  fed  by  glaciers.  I'lie  water  was  said  to  be  lowest 
about  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon ; but  it  rises  towards 
evening,  as  the  glacial  streams,  which  do  not  reach  the  river 
before  that  time,  then  give  up  their  tribute.  I'here  were  sev- 
eral low  islets  in  the  river,  more  or  less  grass-grown,  of  which 
one  divided  it  into  two  arms.  In  winter  the  bed  is  dry,  or  has, 
at  most,  a few  narrow  rivulets  of  frozen  water;  but  by  the  be- 
ginning of  August  the  stream  falls  so  considerably  that  it  is 
possible  to  ride  over  it  at  sev^eral  points  without  danger.  A 
little  way  below  the  aul  a projecting  spur  of  the  moraine 
forces  the  river  to  make  a sharp  bend  to  the  right.  The  re- 
sult of  this  is  a little  lake-like  basin,  into  which  the  water 
eddies;  after  that  it  continues  its  way  in  a deep,  wide  chan- 
nel, breaking  through  the  moraine-wall  with  a roar  that  can 
be  heard  at  some  distance. 

" Opposite  Keng-shevar,  on  the  other  bank,  there  was  an  aul 
with  seven  yurts.  As  its  inhabitants  pastured  their  sheep 
during  the  day  on  the  left  bank,  the  animals  had  all  to  be 
brought  back  across  the  stream  in  the  evening,  and  it  was 
very  amusing  to  see  what  a difficult  business  it  was.  A num- 
ber of  men  on  horseback  took  each  a couple  of  sheep  across 
their  saddles  and  rode  in  a long  string  through  the  river;  but, 
as  there  were  many  sheep,  it  took  a considerable  time  before 
the  whole  flock  was  safely  landed  on  the  other  side. 

“ But  we  had  to  think  of  getting  back  before  dusk  came  on 
and  put  an  end  to  our  map -making.  We  therefore  set  our 
course  over  the  moraine,  where  we  again  found  many  pretty 


304 


THROUGH  ASIA 


cirques  with  vegetation  in  the  middle.  In  such  situations 
grass  grows  comparatively  well,  as  it  is  sheltered  by  the  ring- 
like formation  of  the  moraine,  which  also  retains  any  rain 
that  may  fall.  We  reached  the  new  camp  on  the  shore  of 
the  Lower  Bassyk-kul  by  way  of  the  Angher-kul.  In  the 
middle  of  the  former  lake  there  was  an  island,  with  a moraine 


MUS-TAGH-ATA  FROM  BASSYK-KUL,  LOOKING  SOUTH  - SOUTH  FAST 
Erratic  Blocks  (Gneiss)  and  Moraines  in  the  foreground 


cairn  sticking  up  in  it.  Our  two  yurts  were  pitched  on  a 
patch  of  grass,  and  around  us  lay  a new  domain  to  be  explored. 

“ Our  first  day  at  Bassyk-kul  was  anything  but  a success. 
The  wind  blew;  it  poured  with  rain  from  morning  till  night, 
the  heavy  drops  pattering  incessantly  on  the  tent-covering. 
Open-air  work  was  out  of  the  question;  but  happily  I had  so 
much  back  work  to  make  up  that  the  involuntary  confine- 
ment was  rather  welcome  than  otherwise.  Togdasin  Beg  jiaid 
me  a visit,  and  was  regaled  with  tea  and  Chinese  brandy,  the 
latter  specially  brought  for  such  occasions,  and  was  further- 
more entertained  with  tunes  on  the  musical-box,  which  never 


MTTLK  KARA-KUL  LAKH 


305 


failed  to  arouse  the  Kirghiz’  intense  astonishment  and  liveli- 
est interest.  Our  mountain  friends  were  most  impressed, 
however,  by  the  Husqvarna  rides.  They  found  the  mechan- 
ism so  complicated  that  they  declared  no  human  hands  could 
have  constructed  it,  and  that  it  must  have  been  made  by 
Allah  himself. 

“ Togdasin  lk\g  told  me  that  the  Chinese  garrison  in  the 
Sarik-kol  valley  was  following  all  my  movements  with  some 
uneasiness,  and  was  kept  informed  daily  by  Kirghiz  sj)ies  of 
what  I was  doing  and  where  I was  going.  'I'hey  wondered, 
if  1 were  an  07-7iss  (Russian)  or  Fe7'e77s;hi  (luiropean),  how  long 
1 meant  to  stay,  what  my  real  motive  was  in  making  maps, 
and  why  I hacked  jdeces  of  stone  out  of  the  rocks.  They 
had  been  ordered  to  watch  the  frontier  towards  the  Russian 
Pamirs,  and  now  a stranger,  whom  they  supposed  to  be  a 
Russian,  had  made  his  appearance,  and  was  j)roceeding,  un- 
hindered, to  find  out  how  the  land  lay.  Thanks,  however,  to 
the  passport  which  the  Dao  Tai  had  given  me,  they  never 
molested  us. 

“ Heavy  blue-black  rain-clouds  swept  down  the  many  lateral 
valleys  which  strike  off  from  the  Sarik-kol  chain  towards  the 
open  country,  in  which  were  the  two  Bassyk-kul  lakes.  Every- 
thing was  enveloped  in  a thick  Scotch  mist,  darkening  the 
otherwise  magnificent  landscape  with  gloom.  Every  now  and 
again  a fragment  of  the  glacier  or  mountain-side  became  visi- 
ble  through  the  mist,  which  clung  to  the  surface  of  the  ground 
and  drifted  off  to  the  south.  The  Kirghiz  assured  me  that 
such  continuous  rain  as  that  of  to-day  was  unusual.  The 
patch  of  grass  on  which  we  were  encamped  was  transformed 
into  a swamp,  and  we  were  constrained  to  dig  deep  ditches 
round  the  yurt,  with  branches  running  towards  the  lake,  to 
protect  ourselves  from  the  wet  In  the  evening  it  cleared  up, 
and  the  atmosphere  became  perfectly  still.  The  lakes  lay 
like  dark  mirrors  in  which  all  the  fantastic  projections  of  the 
mountains  were  clearly  reflected. 

“ During  the  ensuing  days  I explored  the  country  round 
our  new  camping-ground,  and  mapped  the  west  shore  of  Lit- 
tle Kara-kul.  First  of  all  we  followed  the  shore-line,  and 
I. — 20 


3o6 


IH ROUGH  ASIA 


where  the  rocks  fell  sheer  into  the  lake  we  rode  through  the 
water,  on  the  disintegrated  terraces  at  their  base.  Then  we 
made  short  excursions  from  the  lake  to  the  neio:hborins[ 
mountains,  where  we  often  had  decidedly  disagreeable  pas- 
sages to  traverse.  There  was  one  point  which  was  especially 
favorable  for  studying  this  remarkable  and  beautiful  Alpine 
region.  Each  of  the  twenty-one  glaciers  of  the  Mus-tagh 
chain  was  visible  with  the  field-glass,  clearly  lit  up,  so  that 
every  detail  was  distinct.  The  slopes  of  the  chain  were 
draped  with  dazzling  white  snow  except  the  rocky  pinnacles 
which  projected  highest.  In  places,  however,  particularly  in 
the  lower  regions,  the  snow  was  tinged  a dirty  yellow,  due  to 
dust  brought  thither  by  the  wind.  On  the  summits  the  snow 
formed  a continuous  covering,  closely  following  the  relief  of 
the  underlying  mountains;  but  in  several  places  its  lower 
edge  was  broken,  the  snow  having  slid  down  over  the  preci- 
pices. Otherwise  the  tendency  of  the  snow  is  to  gravitate 
towards  the  (jatherino;-basin  of  the  glaciers,  whence  it  is  grad- 
ually  dispersed  by  the  ice-streams.  These  are  sometimes 
narrow  and  compact,  sometimes  hive-shaped,  sometimes  thin 
and  spreading,  but  always  covered  with  gravel  and  bowlders, 
which  rest  on  the  belts  of  ice  between  the  transverse  crevas- 
ses and  give  the  glaciers  a striped  appearance.  Some  of  the 
ice-streams  are  so  covered  with  moraines  that  it  is  only  with 
difficulty  they  can  be  distinguished  from  their  surroundings. 

“ A trip  to  the  isthmus  between  the  two  small  lakes  showed 
that  they  were  separated  from  each  other  by  a decayed,  and 
often  broken,  moraine  - wall,  beside  which  we  found  erratic 
gneiss  blocks,  measuring  as  much  as  looo  cubic  meters  or 
35,300  cubic  feet,  and  with  beautifully  polished  surfaces.  It 
was  plainly  the  oldest  of  the  terminal  moraines  of  the  former 
Ike-bel-su  glacier. 

“ On  one  occasion  when  we  were  returning  from  a trip  of 
this  kind,  Yehim  Hai,  who  was  carrying  the  toj)ographical 
instruments,  lost  a brass  diopter,  and  I gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  if  the  missing  instrument  were  not  found  he 
would  be  in  disgrace.  He  forthwith  started  off  to  go  over 
the  ground  again,  and  see  if  he  could  find  it.  .An  acquaint- 


NV.Wd  lSX  IM  XMcriHM-MASSN  il  CI  W 1 . 1 M‘ M A^S\'! 


>1 


LITTLK  KARA-KUL  LAKE 


309 


ance,  whom  he  eventually  met,  told  him  that  an  extraordi- 
nary metal  thing  had  been  found  and  taken  to  the  Chinese 
commandant,  Jan  Darin,  at  Bulun-kul,  who  thought  he  could 
put  a spoke  in  my  wheel  by  retaining  it.  I sent  off  a 
messenger  at  once  to  inform  Jan  Darin  that  he  would 
have  to  settle  the  matter  with  the  Dao  'I'ai  if  he  did  not 
return  me  the  instrument.  1 received  the  diopter  back  im- 
mediately. 

“I  spent  a whole  day  in  investigating  the  country  between 
the  Lower  Hassyk-kul  and  the  Ike-beUsu.  A small  stream 
issued  from  the  lake,  and  flowing  through  fairly  luxuriant 
grass-land,  littered  with  fragments  of  the  moraine,  joined  the 
main  stream  a little  way  north  of  the  river  Kara-kul.  The 
Ike-bel-su  had  decreased  considerably  in  volume  the  last  few 
days,  owing  to  the  fall  in  the  temjjcrature  ; but  here,  too,  it 
raced  between  ])erpendicular  or  oblicjiie  conglomerate  walls, 
in  the  sides  of  which  round  gneiss  blocks  were  partially  em- 
bedded, looking  as  if  every  moment  they  would  topple  down 
into  the  river. 

“ On  July  24th  examined  the  upper  basin  of  the  Bassyk-kul. 
About  the  middle  of  the  south  shore  a promontory,  formed 
by  a spur  of  the  mountain,  fell  almost  sheer  into  the  lake  so 
that  none  but  foot-passengers  could  get  round  it.  We,  being 
mounted,  were  obliged  to  make  our  way  through  a pass  over 
the  ridge. 

“This  little  pass,  called  Bassyk-kulden-kiasi-davan  (the 
Mountain-Path  Pass  of  Bassyk-kul),  was  situated  not  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  above  the  lake,  but  had  steep  ap- 
proaches, and  its  summit  commanded  a fine  view.  At  our 
feet  basked  the  little  lake,  washing  the  promontory  on  three 
sides;  we  also  saw  its  small  islands  and  shoals,  its  submarine 
moraine  elevations  and  erratic  blocks,  still  half  immersed  in 
the  water,  and  the  small  deltas  which  form  at  the  mouths  of 
the  streams  that  entered  it  froin  the  western  valleys.  On  the 
isthmus  between  the  lakes  was  the  crumbling  moraine-wall, 
in  the  middle  not  more  than  eight  or  ten  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  water.  Just  at  that  low  spot  there  was  a marsh;  never- 
theless, all  visible  connection  between  the  two  lakes  was  en- 


310 


THROUGH  ASIA 


tirely  wanting.  The  Kirghiz  told  me  that  even  in  the  spring 
and  summer,  when  the  increase  of  water  from  the  western 
valleys  is  sometimes  considerable,  the  rise  of  niveau  is  never 
very  perceptible,  and  no  water  ever  flows  over  from  the  upper 
to  the  lower  basin. 

Hastily  surveyed,  it  might  be  supposed  that  the  lake  pos- 
sessed no  outlet,  and  that  it  was  therefore  salt.  The  water, 
however,  was  perfectly  fresh  and  clear.  A glance  at  the  map 


THK  LOWER  HASSVK-KUL  AND  THE  MUS-TAGII  CHAIN 


reveals  a satisfactory  explanation  of  this.  The  lower  lake,  it 
is  true,  does  not  receive  any  visible  affluent,  but  out  of  it  flows 
a tiny  stream.  The  lake  must  therefore  receive  an  invisible 
influx,  and  this  naturally  comes  from  the  upper  basin,  whose 
surplus  water  percolates  under  the  isthmus  moraine  to  the 
lower  lake,  and  thence  finds  its  way  to  the  Ike-bel-su.  Has- 
syk-kul  was  situated  12,221  feet,  and  Tittle  Kara-kul  12,201 
feet,  above  sea-level. 

“Several  subsidiary  chains  branched  off  from  the  main 
Sarik-kol  range,  and  thc'w  or  side-glens  all  opened  tow- 

ards the  lake.  The  most  imjiortant  were  the  Kara  (the  Black), 
Yellang  (the  Bare),  and  Khamaldi  (the  Gusty)  yilgas.  I'he 


LITTLF  KARA-KUL  LAKH 


last-named  has  its  own  stream,  running  into  a creek,  wliile 
the  streams  from  the  first  two  united  with  several  other  small 
watercourses,  and  formed  one,  which  again,  just  before  reach- 
ing the  lake,  divided  into  two  arms  with  a delta  between, 
riie  sediment  brought  down  by  these  several  streams  has 
been  deposited  in  long  narrow  tongues  and  islets  of  mud; 
and  beyond  them  again  lay  a group  of  moraine  islands. 

" In  the  three  glens  which  I have  just  mentioned  there 
was  more  or  less  good  pasturage;  the  yaks,  however,  have  to 
j)ut  up  with  the  inferior  qualities,  as  the  better  grass  is  re- 
served for  the  sheep.  Here  the  Naiman  Kirghiz,  of  Khoat 
Beg’s  aul  sjjend  the  three  coldest  winter  months.  I'h rough 
the  Kara-yilga  a path  leads  u])  to  the  .Sarik-kol  j:>ass,  Kok- 
ala  - cluikkur  (the  Green  - Chequered  DejJths),  and  thence  to 
Lake  Rang-kul.  It  can,  however,  only  be  traversed  by  yak^ 
or  by  people  on  foot,  and  is  seldom  used,  except  occasionally 
by  Kirghiz  going  to  the  Russian  Pamirs,  without  jiermission 
from  the  Chinese  authorities. 

“At  4 o'clock  it  again  began  to  rain;  and  the  wind  blew 
from  the  north.  We  rode  back  towards  the  west  shore  of 
the  lake  by  following  the  little  Kara-yilga  stream,  which  was 
now  dry,  with  the  -exception  of  small  pools  in  the  deeper  holes. 
An  hour  and  a half  later  we  observed  a most  extraordinary 
phenomenon.  A slight  rushing  sound  was  heard  from  up 
the  bed  of  the  stream.  Then  a brownish  gray  wave  of  water 
appeared  .suddenly  round  a bend,  and  foamed  down  among 
the  stones,  first  slowly  and  gradually,  filling  the  deeper  parts, 
and  winding  between  the  steep  e.xcavated  banks,  along  which 
there  was  a narrow  belt  of  vegetation.  This  onrush  of  water 
takes  place  regularly  every  evening  at  this  time  of  the  year; 
it  is  glacier  water  from  the  Sarik-kol  chain,  which  only 
reaches  the  lake  towards  evening. 

“ On  July  25th  we  broke  up  camp  at  Bassyk-kul  and  went 
to  Keng-shevar,  whence  I intended  beginning  the  exploration 
of  Mus-tagh-ata.  On  our  way  thither  we  passed  an  unusual- 
ly fine  circular  moraine,  about  a hundred  yards  in  diameter, 
situated  on  the  south  shore  of  the  Bassyk-kul.  In  the  middle 
there  was  a tiny  round  pool,  surrounded  by  a ring  of  white 


312 


THROUGH  ASIA 


salt  deposit,  which  in  its  turn  was  girdled  by  a belt  of  vegeta- 
tion ; outside  of  all  was  the  moraine-wall,  with  its  one  open- 
ing towards  the  lake.  Although  the  pool  was  on  a level  with 
the  lake,  and  quite  near  its  shore,  so  that  it  was  fair  to  assume 
a subterranean  connection  between  them,  the  water  in  the 
cirque,  which  was  called  Shor-kul  (Salt  Lake),  was  absolutely 
salt.  The  Kirghiz  told  me  that  sheep  which  drink  of  it  get 
cramp  and  die. 

“At  Tamora-tash  we  met  Tosjdasin  Bes:,  brincrincr  me  a 
sheep  and  a can  of  yak’s  milk  as  presents.  He  accompanied 
us  to  Keng-shevar,  and  stopped  the  night  there.  The  sheep 
was  killed  in  the  evening,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  aul  were 
invited  to  the  feast;  but  we  were  disturbed  during  the  pro- 
ceedings by  a violent  whirlwind,  which  threatened  to  carry 
away  the  yurt.  All  the  guests  scrambled  to  their  feet  and 
seized  hold  of  the  tent-poles,  while  two  or  three  other  men 
anchored  the  tent  with  ropes  and  supports.” 


CHAFTKR  XXVII 


A.M()X(;  THE  (ILACIERS  OF  MUS-TAGH-A'I'A 

TiiK  following  day  we  rode  uj)  the  northern  flank  of  Mus- 
ta£rh-ata,  and  crossed  the  hu<?e  ridge  on  the  left  side  of  the 
Ike-bel-su.  The  gradient  was  steepish  before  we  reached  the 
top,  which  rose  and  fell  in  long,  sweeping  undulations,  but 
otherwise  was  fairly  level,  the  surface  being  covered  with  sand, 
gravel,  and  small  bowlders,  with  here  and  there  a few  tussocks 
of  grass  and  clumps  of  Raminadacea:.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  summit  we  again  reached  the  Kara-kul  watershed,  whence 
a brisk  little  rivulet  from  the  glen  of  Kontoi  flowed  down  to 
the  lake  through  a broad,  shallow  bed.  Beside  this  stream,  at 
a height  of  13,530  feet,  were  the  Kotch-korchu  yeylaus  (sum- 
mer grazing-grounds),  which  we  chose  as  our  first  starting- 
point  for  exploring  the  glaciers. 

The  Kir2:hiz  beloncjino-  to  the  aul  had  come  there  three 
months  previously,  and  intended  to  remain  three  more;  the 
six  winter  months  they  spend  in  the  Kontoi-yilga.  There 
exists  among  the  Kirghiz  a traditional  agreement  by  which 
each  family  or  clan  possesses  its  own  kishlaks  and  yeylaks ; 
a rule  which  cannot  be  broken  without  a general  convocation 
being  held.  The  inhabitants  of 'this  place,  like  most  of  the 
Sarik-kol  Kirghiz,  belonged  to  the  Kara-teit  tribe.  Their 
aksakal,  or  chief,  Tugul  Bai,  was  ninety-six  years  old,  sound 
in  mind  and  body,  and  with  pleasing  manners.  The  ac- 
tive life  they  lead  in  the  open  air  hardens  the  Kirghiz 
to  such  an  extent  that  as  a rule  they  live  to  a very  great 
age. 

To-day  again  there  were  torrents  of  rain  and  the  thunder 
echoed  among  the  mountains.  Shortly  afterwards  we  heard 
a rushing  sound,  which  our  host  explained  was  always  audible 


314 


THROUGH  ASIA 


after  heavy  rain;  it  was  the  rain-water  streaming  over  the 
precipices. 

My  first  business  at  Kotch-korchu  was  to  pay  and  dismiss 
the  two  Kirghiz,  Nur  Mohammed  and  Palevan,  who  had 
done  orood  service  hitherto,  but  knew  nothing:  of  tlie  Macier 
world  up  above,  neither  had  they  any  yaks.  In  their  stead  I 
engaged  a couple  of  Kirghiz  belonging  to  the  place,  and  had 
their  yaks  out  on  parade  in  the  evening;  yaks  being  the  only 
riding  animals  which  can  make  their  way  at  all  in  these  high 
glacial  regions. 

On  July  27th,  mounted  on  a splendid  black  yak  and  ac- 
companied by  a couple  of  Kirghiz  as  guides,  I steered  my 
course  eastward  towards  the  first  glacier  to  be  explored, 
Gorumdeh.  We  rode  cpiietly  along  over  country  sloping  tow- 
ards the  north,  and  cut  through  by  three  small  glacier  streams. 
Leaving  on  the  right  some  angular,  inky-black  rocks,  we  dis- 
covered behind  them  a small  glacier,  excessively  steep  at  its 
upper  end,  but  of  no  very  great  extent.  Farther  to  the  east 
there  were  several  similar  prominent  outcrops  of  rock,  huge 
ragged  masses  of  mountain,  between  which  the  glaciers  thrust 
out  their  finger- like  projections  towards  the  north.  The 
largest  of  these  was  called  Gorumdehning-bashi  (the  Head  of 
the  Stony  Tract);  its  stream,  which  gathered  up  glacier  wa- 
ter from  all  the  other  brooks,  flowed  through  a deeply  exca- 
vated channel  and  farther  down  united  with  the  Ike-bel-su. 

I contented  myself  with  mapping  the  left  lateral  moraines 
of  the  Gorumdeh  glacier  while  riding  up.  For  this  purpose 
I only  used  the  compass  now  for  mapping.  The  distances  I 
measured  by  adding  up  the  yak’s  steps,  allowing  for  the  er- 
rors due  to  our  irregular  course,  and  after  having  previously 
measured  how  many  steps  on  the  uneven  ground  corre- 
sponded to  a hundred  yards. 

'I'he  lower  part  of  the  Great  Gorumdeh  glacier  was  so  en- 
cumbered with  gravel  and  other  detritus  that  it  was  often 
difficult  to  distinguish  it  from  the  neighboring  rocks.  How 
steep  this  stream  of  ice  was  will  be  understood  when  I state 
that  the  point  of  the  tongue  inclined  at  an  angle  of  fully  nine 
degrees.  But  after  that  the  slope  of  the  glacier  - trough  de- 


Till-  GLACIERS  OF  MUS-TAGH-ATA 


3'5 


creased  considerably,  and  the  large  full -flowing  stream  that 
issued  from  underneath  the  terminal  moraine,  meandered 
fairly  quietly  down,  often  without  forming  cataracts. 

The  Lesser  Gorumdeh  glacier  was  divided  into  two 
branches  by  an  island  of  rock,  the  outer  branch  being  hedged 
on  the  left  by  eight  or  ten  more  or  less  parallel  lateral  mo- 
raines. Between  the  outermost  of  these,  which  was  thirty 


THE  GORUMDEH  GEAUIERS,  EOOKING  SOUTH 


to  forty  - five  feet  high,  and  the  soft  grass  - grown  ridge  on 
which  we  Avere  riding,  there  was  a stream,  which  higher  up 
traversed  a small  triangular  lake  between  the  ridge,  the  mo- 
raine, and  the  solid  rock  of  Mus-tagh-ata. 

The  right-hand  wall  which  bounded  the  Lesser  Gorumdeh 
glacier  on  the  west  was  crowned  with  extensive  snowfields, 
which  from  time  to  time  slip  down  to  its  foot  and  there  form 
new  miniature  glaciers.  In  this  way  they  have  heaped  up  a 
remarkable  terminal  moraine,  about  forty-five  feet  in  height, 
at  the  base  of  the  mountain.  From  this  also  a stream  finds 
its  way  down  the  northern  declivities  to  Little  Kara-kul. 


3i6 


THROUGH  ASIA 


On  our  way  back  to  the  yurt  we  were  in  several  places  as- 
tonished by  the  brilliant  coloring  of  the  Alpine  flora.  The 
flowers  seemed  to  flourish  in  spite  of  the  niggard  soil  of  the 
moraines,  and  were  conspicuous  by  their  almost  glaring  hues. 
The  h igher  we  ascended  the  purer  and  more  vivid  the  color- 
ing. No  doubt  the  slight  absorption  of  light  by  the  atmos- 
phere at  those  lofty  altitudes  has  a direct  influence  on  vege- 
tation. 

Another  day  was  devoted  to  the  Great  Gorumdeh  glacier. 
From  a grassy  ridge  we  rode  our  yaks  out  over  the  rugged 
moraines,  and  terrible  difficulty  we  had  to  get  across  them. 
Rock  succeeded  rock,  and  the  yaks  often  stepped  through 
the  holes  between  them,  though  luckily  without  falling.  I 
could  not  help  admiring  the  cleverness  of  these  animals  in 
picking  their  way;  though  riding  them  is  by  no  means  pure 
enjoyment.  You  require  some  practice  before  you  feel  thor- 
oughly at  home  in  the  saddle.  One  moment  the  heavy  ani- 
mal balances  himself  on  the  sharp  edge  of  a rock  ; the  next 
he  jumps  incontinently  over  a yawning  chasm,  and  somehow 
manages  to  secure  a foothold  on  the  opposite  side.  Some- 
times, again,  he  pulls  himself  together,  and  with  rigid,  im- 
movable legs,  proceeds  to  glissade  down  a precipitous  gravel 
slope,  where  a two-legged  being  would  inevitably  come  to 
grief.  Riding  a yak,  however,  in  spite  of  the  animal’s  unde- 
niably good  points,  is  a trial  of  patience,  by  reason  of  his  ab- 
solute sluggishness  of  temperament.  He  often  comes  to  a 
dead  stop,  and  has  to  be  reminded  of  his  duties  with  a cud- 
gel. To  any  application  of  the  whip  he  is  absolutely  insensi- 
ble, while  he  looks  upon  a moderate  blow  as  a sort  of  caress, 
and  answers  it  with  a cheerful  grunt.  Nothing  short  of  a 
bludgeon  would  convince  the  beast  I rode  that  we  were  not 
out  on  a mere  pleasure  trip.  In  spite  of  blows  he  plodded 
on  at  his  usual  phlegmatic  pace. 

I now  ascertained  that  the  moraine  belt  on  the  left  side  of 
the  Great  Gorumdeh  glacier  was  much  broader  than  I had 
thought  yesterday,  and  for  a couple  of  hours  we  rode  over 
a succession  of  broad  ridges.  Finally  we  reached  a little 
moraine  tarn,  with  green,  muddy  water,  into  wh.ich  flowed  a 


TllK  CiLACIKRS  OF  M US-TAGH-ATA 


maiiy-branched  babbling  brook  tliat  came  foaming  down  one 
of  the  outermost  moraines,  forming  a delta  of  sediment  and 
debris  at  its  foot,  over  which  its  arms  again  divided. 

This  stream  seemed  to  issue  from  one  of  the  smaller 
glaciers;  but  although  its  volume  was  as  much  as  70  or  100 
cubic  feet  in  the  second,  the  tarn  had  no  visible  outlet,  nor 
did  it  rise  above  a certain  level,  as  the  surplus  water  that  is- 
sued from  underneath  the  moraines  flowed  into  the  general 
glacier-basin.  The  tarn  could  not  e.xist  at  all  between  mo- 
raine-walls of  such  coarse  material  were  it  not  that  the  .sedi- 
mentarv  matter  which  it  brings  down  itself  forms  a sort  of 
foundation  for  the  water  to  rest  upon. 

k'rom  the  tarn  we  rode  up  in  a southerly  direction,  be- 
tween two  gigantic  moraine-walls.  The  trough  between  them 
was  overgrown  with  sjiarse  tufts  of  grass,  wild  rhubarb,  and 
other  plants,  and  was  well  named  Gultcha-yeylau  (the  Pasture 
of  the  Wild  Sheej)) ; for  here,  and  far  out  on  the  glacier,  we 
found  the  tracks  of  wild  sheep. 

As  the  moraines  farther  on  became  worse  and  worse,  con- 
sisting e.xclusively  of  Cyclopean  blocks  of  naked  rock,  we  left 
our  yaks  and  made  our  way  on  to  the  glacier  on  foot.  After 
passing  the  last  lateral  moraine,  which,  by-the-by,  was  still  in 
course  of  formation,  we  reached  the  firm  ice.  At  first  it  was 
covered  with  gravel  and  bowlders  to  such  an  e.xtent  that  the 
clear  ice-pyramids  only  peeped  out  at  intervals.  The  lateral 
moraine,  carried  on  the  back  of  the  glacier,  was  500  yards 
in  breadth,  and  ceased  somewhat  abruptly  where  the  white 
ice  began.  This  formed  a chaos  of  pyramids  and  mounds, 
which,  however,  had  no  sharp  edges,  but  were  much  rounded, 
and  caked  with  a layer  of  soft,  wet  ice,  chalky  white  and  re- 
sembling snow.  This  was,  of  course,  the  result  of  ablation, 
or  the  destructive  influence  of  the  atmosphere  and  warmth 
upon  the  ice,  which  was  then  working  everywhere  with  great 
activity.  The  sound  of  trickling,  dripping  water  was  audible 
in  all  directions  among  the  bowlders  and  stones,  in  the  cre- 
vasses, and  in  small  pools  on  the  surface  of  the  ice.  The  glac- 
iers rumbled  and  cracked ; eveiy  now  and  again  we  heard 
the  ringing  echo  of  smaller  bowlders  and  gravel  falling  into 


THROUGH  ASIA 


318 

the  gaping  fissures,  and  in  the  distance  the  rushing  sound 
of  the  glacial  torrents,  which,  now  that  the  sun  was  high, 
were  fed  abundantly  from  every  side.  The  material  brought 
down  from  the  mountain  consisted  for  the  most  part  of  the 
same  gray  gneiss  which  we  had  previously  observed  down  by 
the  lakes.  Gigantic  blocks  such  as  those  that  lay  beside  the 
Bassyk-kul  were,  however,  absent.  The  smaller  fragments 
of  stone,  by  reason  of  their  greater  power  of  absorbing  heat, 
had  sunk  down  in  holes  in  the  ice,  and  lay  at  the  bottom  in 
a little  pool  of  water.  The  larger  blocks,  on  the  other  hand, 
protected  the  underlying  ice  from  melting,  and  therefore 
formed  glacier  tables  resting  on  platforms  of  ice. 

A glance  northward,  that  is  to  say,  down  the  glacier,  showed 
us,  to  the  left,  the  gray  masses  of  the  lateral  moraine,  with 
only  occasional  glimpses  of  the  ice  showing  through;  to  the 
right  the  white  corrugated  surface  of  the  naked  glaciers,  with 
the  two  medial  moraines  gradually  merging  into  one,  the  big- 
gest I saw  on  the  Mus-tagh-ata ; and  in  the  background  the 
deep  depression  which  marked  the  continuing  line  of  the 
glacier,  and  through  which  probably  the  Gorumdeh  formerly 
streamed  to  the  Ike-bel-su  glacier,  although  the  old  terminal 
moraine  has  been  entirely  swept  away  by  the  glacier-stream. 

Lastly  we  went  down  to  a place  near  the  tongue  of  the 
glacier,  which  was  split  into  two  portions  by  a small  lake  of 
clear  water.  The  highest  altitude  we  reached  on  the  glacier 
was  14,700  feet  above  sea-level. 

To  the  south  was  the  vast  Jirn  or  root  of  the  glacier,  a 
eatherinof-basin  into  which  the  snow  slid  down  from  the  sur- 

O O 

rounding  precipices,  leaving  step-like  platforms  behind  it. 

On  July  29th  we  again  broke  up  camj)  and  got  under  way 
for  a new  base  of  operations — namely,  a spot  more  conven- 
iently situated  for  the  investigation  of  the  glaciers  which 
streamed  out  towards  the  west. 

We  started  in  a south-southwesterly  direction,  and  made 
our  way  up  the  grass-grown  sloj)es.  The  weather  was  cold 
and  misty,  with  an  occasional  snow-storm.  At  length  we 
reached  the  pass  of  Sarimek  (the  Bass  of  the  Yellow  IHbow), 
an  important  feature  in  the  country,  as  it  forms  the  passage 


Ti  ass\V 


XJVp«^  \ 

■L\UU 

)idvrc\TV\k^ 


Plains  or  Taghcu-ma 


SKETCH  MAP  OF  MUS-TAGH-ATA 


THK  GLACIERS  OF  MUS-TAGH-ATA 


3 '9 

over  a gigantic  spur  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata  which  stretches  to 
the  northwest,  dividing  the  glaciers  and  streams  of  the  north- 
ern decli\ities  from  those  of  the  western.  1 he  pass  was 
strewn  with  ijravel  and  small  bowlders,  and  on  its  southern 
face  were  fissured  rocks  of  an  unusually  hard,  dark  crystalline 
schist  inclined  at  an  angle  of  thirty-eight  degrees  to  the  north. 

If,  standing  on  this  pass,  we  turned  towards  the  massive 
knot  of  Mus-tagh-ata,  the  following  j)icture  from  left  to  right, 
or  from  north  to  south,  unfolded  itself  to  view:  h'irst  of  all, 
the  rocky  buttresses,  foreshortened,  with  a small  snow  - clad 
glacier;  then,  between  two  arms  of  the  mountain,  both  in 
part  thickly  carpeted  with  snow,  there  was  another  small  glac- 
ier, fairly  clean  at  the  top,  but  at  its  lower  extremity  strewn 
with  fine  gravel,  so  that  the  blue  ice  in  the  fissures  was  only 
visible  here  and  there.  In  the  middle  of  the  glacier  trans- 
verse crevasses  predominated,  at  its  lower  end  longitudinal 
crevasses.  The  tongue  of  the  glacier  was  girdled  by  gigantic 
moraines  crumpled  up  into  several  ridge.s.  Between  the  third 
rockv  buttress  and  that  part  of  Mus-tagh-ata  which  we  were 
on  in  April,  and  high  up  on  the  mountain-side,  there  was  a 
deep  gorge,  into  which  the  Sarimek  and  Kamper  - kishlak 
glaciers  poured  their  streams,  while  they  in  their  turn  were 
separated  by  a huge  snow -clad  wall  of  rock.  The  former 
glacier  was  encumbered  with  moraines;  the  latter  was  shin- 
ing white.  Finally,  in  the  south,  the  pass  of  Ullugrabat;  and 
in  the  west  the  entire  Sarik-kol  chain,  with  its  thinly  scattered 
snow-fields.  It  was  partly  hidden  by  particularly  beautiful 
white  cirrus-clouds,  which  contrasted  strikingly  with  the  steel- 
blue,  wintry  sky  over  the  Pamirs  in  the  background. 

The  descent  from  the  pass  was  very  steep ; we  rode  down 
the  gully  of  a stream  which  issued  from  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  Sarimek  glacier,  and  raced  merrily  along  its  stony  bed, 
tumbling  down  falls  and  cataracts  as  it  went.  We  left  the 
terminal  moraine  with  its  imposing  front,  crossed  some  streams, 
and  reached  a small  patch  of  water-soaked  greensward,  where 
I collected  several  new  species  of  plants.  A herd  of  kiyick, 
or  wild  goats,  were  peacefully  grazing  there  ; but  upon  catch- 
ing sight  of  us,  instantly  sprang  up  the  mountain-side.  We 


THROUGH  ASIA 


320 

then  crossed  five  more  brooks,  fed  witli  glacier  water.  Be- 
tween them  low’  elongated  ridges  ran  dow’n  to  the  Sarik-kol 
valley,  forming  black  and  gloomy  continuations  of  the  rocky 
buttresses  w'hich,  like  radii  or  ribs,  divided  the  orlaciers  one 
from  another. 

Some  of  the  men,  w'ho  had  gone  on  ahead  with  the  cara- 


SARIMEK  KAMI'KK-KISIII.AK  (U  ACI  l■',RS,  I.OOKIXO  SOU  l'IIKAST 

van,  were  already  camjjed  when  we  arrived,  having  chosen  a 
piece  of  lush,  w'ell-w^atered  grass,  that  afforded  splendid  past- 
urage for  the  yaks. 

That  evening  it  snow^ed  hard,  and  the  ne.xt  morning  the 
mountains  were  covered  with  a thin  sheet  of  snow’.  'Hie 
Kirghiz  said  that  winter  w’as  already  coming  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  that  it  would  get  colder  and  colder  every  day. 

On  July  30th  winter  w'as  u])on  us  in  full  severity.  It  snow'cd 
the  w'hole  day,  heavily  and  ceaselessly;  sometimes  the  entire 
landscaj)e  w'as  enveIoj)ed  in  dense  clouds  of  dri\’ing  snow,  so 
that  not  a trace  of  the  mountains,  or  of  the  valley  lying  deep 


THH  CiLACIKRS  OF  MUS-TAGH-ATA  321 


down  below  them,  was  to  be  seen.  It  was  dark,  cold,  and 
gusty,  and  the  inhospitable  mountain  received  us  at  Yam- 
bulak  - bashi  much  as  it  had  done  the  April  previously. 
'I'here  was  no  prospect  of  any  excursion  that  day,  for  we 
could  not  see  many  steps  in  front  of  us  for  the  snow-storm, 
and  my  winter  wardrobe,  consisting  of  a sheei)skin  coat,  fur 
cap  and  waistcoat,  and  valenkis  (Russian  felt  boots),  was  not 
yet  unpacked.  In  order  not  to  be  hampered  with  too  much 
paraphernalia,  I had  this  time  only  brought  a small  yurt 
with  me;  and  in  this  I sat  the  whole  day,  writing  and 
drawing,  with  a cup  of  hot  tea  every  now  and  then  to 
keejj  me  warm.  'Fhe  men  crowded  together  in  their  great 
sheepskin  coats,  and  sat  crouched  under  the  shelter  of  a 
block  of  gneiss,  listening  to  Mollah  Islam,  who  was  read- 
ing  aloud  out  of  an  old  book  of  tales.  As  the  snow-storm  in- 
creased in  violence,  I made  them  come  into  the  tent,  and  let 
them  continue  their  reading.  Towards  evening  it  ceased  to 
snow;  but  heavy  gray  clouds  swept  through  the  deep  valleys, 
trailing  their  long  fringes  and  draperies  behind  them.  Every 
now  and  again  flying  fragments  became  detached  from  them, 
and  sprinkled  the  rocks  with  their  white  powder.  In  the 
evening  we  had  a visit  from  the  aksakal  of  the  aul  of  Yam- 
bulak,  and  half  a dozen  other  Kirghiz,  who  came  to  bid  us 
welcome,  and  brought  a sheep  with  them  as  a present.  They 
were  regaled  with  tea  and  bread,  as  usual,  and  were  given  an 
equivalent  for  their  sheep. 

When  the  weather  eventually  cleared,  all  the  mountains 
reappeared  in  a garb  of  dazzling  white,  and  we  were  sur- 
rounded by  a thorough  winter  landscape.  The  white  mantle, 
however,  did  not  reach  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  Sarik-kol 
valley,  because  at  this  time  of  the  year  the  snow  changes  to 
rain  at  a lower  altitude. 

The  weather  being  favorable  on  July  31st,  we  were  able  to 
start  on  our  scramble  over  the  Yam-bulak  glacier.  Its  surface 
was  perfectly  white,  being  covered  with  soft,  wet,  sticky  snow. 
Small  glacial  streams,  with  a temperature  of  31.5“  Fahr.  (0.29° 
C.),  rippled  cheerily  over  the  ice.  We  struck  a south-south- 
easterly direction  across  the  uneven  ice -sheet  towards  the 
I. — 2 1 


322 


THROUGH  ASIA 


right-hand  lateral  moraine,  which  was  from  three  to  seven 
feet  thick,  and  sent  out  long  crescent-shaped  offshoots  towards 
the  central  parts  of  the  glacier.  There  were  also  a few  small 
glacier  tables,  or  ice-pillars,  14  inches  in  height;  and  a cre- 
vasse, 6 feet  wide  and  32  feet  deep,  which  would  have  put  an 
end  to  further  advance  had  it  not  hung  so  far  over  at  the 


THE  VAM-BULAK  GLACIER  AND  ITS  PORTAI.  IN  THE  MUS-TAGH-ATA 

edsfes  that  we  were  able  to  ^et  across  it.  The  ice  in  its 
sides  was  of  the  purest  blue,  and  heaps  of  snow  lay  at  the 
bottom.  The  glacier  was  for  the  most  part  covered  with  a 
thin  layer  of  soft,  wet  slush,  caused  partly  by  the  newly  fallen 
snow,  partly  by  the  destructive  agency  of  ablation.  'Hie 
beautiful  transparent  blue  ice  was  only  visible  in  the  fissures, 
and  in  the  channels  where  the  small  glacial  streams  flowed 
over  the  surface  of  the  glacier.  These  streams,  with  their 
delightfully  babbling,  crystal-clear  water,  were  none  of  them 
large;  for  usually  they  were  soon  swallowed  up  by  some 
gajiing  crevasse. 

After  we  had  advanced  some  440  yards  on  the  glacier, 
])i'obably  a third  of  the  whole  way  across,  the  ice  became  jier- 


Till-:  (;lacii:rs  oi-  mus-tac;ii-a  r.\ 


fectly  impracticable,  a maze  of  hummocks  and  pyramids,  cre- 
vasses and  streams,  these  last  running  in  deep  trenches  sunk 
between  the  irregularities  of  the  ice  and  partly  hidden  by 
snow-bridges. 

Looking  uj)ward  from  this  point  towards  the  rocky  j)art  of 
the  mountain  situated  between  its  ])erpendicular  buttre.sses — 
towards  the  east — we  percei\ed  even  then  that  the  glacier 
trended  in  three  different  directions — namely,  to  the  east,  the 
south,  and  the  west;  or,  in  other  words,  forward  and  to  both 
sides.  Immediately  after  leaving  the  upper  reaches  of  the 


ON  THE  V.\M-BULAK  GLACIER,  LOOKING  EAST 

mountain  it  streamed  over  a fairly  steep  fall,  and  then  across 
broken  ground.  Its  lower  part  was  therefore  excessively  cut 
up  and  fissured  by  transverse  crevasses.  The  offshoots  of 
the  right-hand  moraine,  consisting  of  gneiss  and  innumerable 
varieties  of  schist,  reached  as  far  as  the  spot  where  we  were 
standing.  There,  too,  we  again  found  some  glacier  tables, 
one  on  a pillar  nearly  four  feet  high  and  leaning  over  very 
much  to  the  southwest,  where  the  sun,  as  usual,  had  most 


324 


THROUGH  ASIA 


power  to  undermine  it.  There  also,  from  a very  narrow 
outlet,  a glacier  stream  issued.  We  heard  the  water  purling 
softly  at  the  bottom,  fifty  feet  or  more  down. 

On  our  return  to  the  moraine,  where  we  left  the  yaks  tied 
to  the  bowlders,  we  came  across  a place  where  the  marginal 


VIEW  FROM  THE  VAM-BULAK  GLACIER,  LOOKING  WES'l' 

moraine  was  broken  off,  so  that  the  edge  of  the  glacier  lay 
naked  and  flayed,  so  to  speak.  Its  sides  rose  up  to  a height 
of  forty  feet,  at  an  angle  of  sixty-four  degrees,  and  down  the 
glassy  face  ran  numerous  tiny  streamlets,  the  head-waters  of 
the  Yam-bulak-bashi.  In  a couple  of  small  moraine-pools  at 
the  edge  of  the  glacier  the  water  was  a gray-green  color,  and 
had  a temperature  of  31.2°  Fahr.  (0.46°  C.). 

Our  expedition  proved  that  the  glacier  differed  very  much 
in  appearance  from  \vhat  it  was  in  April.  Tlie  crevasses 
were  not  so  deep,  being  partly  filled  with  material  which  had 
fallen  in;  nor  were  their  edges  so  sharp;  while  the  surface 
was  in  general  softer  and  more  rounded.  Shortly  put,  every- 
thing tended  to  jirove  that  the  glacier  was  in  a condition  of 
great  activity,  and  that  all  the  agents  of  ablation  were  at  work 
to  level  down  its  outer  form  and  fill  up  its  depressions. 


rHK  GLACIERS  OF  MUS-TACiH- ATA 


325 

Wc  afterwards  followed  the  right  lateral  moraine  to  the 
toimue  of  the  glacier ; but  had  not  reached  it  when  a violent 
gale  sprang  up  from  the  south,  accompanied  with  hail,  which 
stung  us  in  the  face,  and  cotnjjelled  us  to  seek  shelter  under 
some  overhaimiuir  rocks.  I'he  hail  was  followed,  as  usual, 

O O 

by  torrents  of  rain,  and  it  was  only  after  waiting  an  hour  that 
we  were  able  to  proceed. 

Immediately  in  front  of  the  tongue  of  the  glacier  we  made 
a halt.  It  was  a confused  jumble  of  jiyramids,  ridges,  and  huge 
fragments  of  ice,  all  greatly  weathered.  I he  face  resembled 
four  icebenrs,  two  larire  ones  in  the  middle  and  two  smaller 
ones  on  either  side,  separated  from  each  other  by  crevasses, 
and  set  up,  as  if  on  purpose,  facing  the  southwest  sun,  which 
beats  on  them  and  destroys  them.  From  the  right-hand  side 
a little  stream  flowed  through  a glacier  portal  only  24  inches 
hiiih,  which,  at  a distance,  looked  like  a narrow  fissure  be- 
tween  the  sill  or  efround-moraine  and  the  ice.  The  water  in 

O 

the  stream  was  gray  and  muddy  from  the  abraded  materials 
it  held  in  suspension.  It  foamed  and  bubbled  along  the  ice 
and  among  the  moraines.  Here,  too,  a number  of  small 
brooks  and  streamlets  assembled  on  their  way  down  to  the 
glacier  river,  and  fell  in  cascades  of  perfectly  clear  water  not 
broader  than  a man’s  arm.  They  spurted  out  from  the  top 
of  the  (jlacier-wall  in  veritable  fountains  and  waterfalls,  the 
fine  spray  which  streamed  off  them  being  colored  with  all 
the  tints  of  the  rainbow.  One  of  the  small  terminal  moraines 
seemed  to  indicate  that  it  had  advanced  since  our  last  \isit 
in  April. 

In  the  evening  the  sides  of  the  mountain  were  lashed  by 
a violent  hail-storm,  which  pelted  the  roof  of  the  yurt,  and 
compelled  us  to  shut  the  smoke-vent  and  ]Dut  out  the  fire. 
The  hailstones  were  about  a quarter  of  an  inch  in  diameter, 
and  as  they  were  followed  by  snow,  which  fell  in  big.  close 
flakes,  the  slopes  and  the  moraines  were  soon  covered  again 
with  their  wintry  mantle.  Yolldash,  who  was  guarding  the 
entrance  of  the  tent,  howled  dismally  out  in  the  cold.  The 
bad  weather  continued  the  whole  of  the  next  day,  August  ist, 
though  mostly  in  the  shape  of  rain,  so  that  the  snow  quickly 


326 


THROUGH  ASIA 


disappeared  ; but  it  was  a day  lost,  and  there  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  stick  to  the  tent  and  work  out  my  last  sketch-maps. 

August  2d  was  devoted  to  the  Kamper-kishlak  glaciers. 
The  smaller  of  these  ended  at  a considerable  altitude,  and 
had  piled  up  in  front  of  itself  an  enormous  terminal  moraine, 
750  to  1000  feet  in  height.  This  bore  rather  the  appearance 
of  a huge  mound  of  gravel,  for  the  material  which  resulted 


THE  GLACIER  STREAM  OE  'I'lIE  VAM-IiULAK  GLACIER.  LOOKING  EAST 


from  attrition  graduall\-  fell  and  slipped  down  the  steep 
mountain-sides.  The  moraine  mound  inclined  at  an  aimle  of 

O 

thirty-five  and  a half  degrees. 

It  was  now  a question  of  getting  ujd  on  the  top  of  the 
great  Kamper-kishlak  glacier,  the  left  side  of  which  we  were 
following,  though  riding  on  the  moraine.  I'he  ascent  was  so 
steej)  that  we  were  obligerl  to  leave  the  yaks  and  proceed  on 
foot,  till  we  reached  the  solid  mountain — hard  ciAslalline 
schist  — on  the  left  side  of  the  rockv  l)uttresses.  d'he  skv 
was  entiri'ly  clouded  over;  but  the  usual  hail-storm  did  not 


Till*:  (;lacii:rs  of  mus-tac;ii-ata  327 


whiten  the  ground,  as  the  hailstones  rolled,  hopping  and 
juinjjing,  into  the  numberless  crevasses  of  the  moraine,  and 
when  the  shower  cleared  off  the  wet  bowlders  c[uicl<ly  dried 
in  the  arid  air. 

I'he  glacier  e.xtended  down  its  bed  in  the  shaj)e  of  a long, 
flat,  narrow  spoon,  turned  alternately  uj^  and  down,  and  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  bv  moraine-ridges.  On  the  whole,  its 
surface  was  level,  with  elongated,  flattened  undulations.  No 
transverse  crevasses  were  seen  ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
were  two  or  three  verv  long  narrow  ones  running  lengthwise 
down  the  middle  of  the  tongue,  and  the  whole  of  the  left  side 
of  the  ice  was  jagged  by  small  fissures  set  close  together  at 
the  edge.  W hen  we  got  down  upon  the  ice  it  became  clear 
to  me  at  once  how  the  lateral  moraine  had  been  formed. 
Had  I taken  but  one  step,  I should  have  slid  twenty  through 
the  loose  debris,  which  continued  falling,  like  a landslij),  down 
uj)on  the  lateral  moraine. 

Once  over  the  fissures  at  the  edge,  it  was  an  easy  matter 
to  walk  on  the  ice,  which  was  sheeted  with  a thick  layer  of 
snow.  This,  however,  sometimes  concealed  longitudinal  cre- 
vasses, which  we  had  to  feel  for  with  our  alpen-stocks.  .A 
block  of  gneiss,  some  140  cubic  feet  in  e.xtent,  had  dropj^ed 
through  the  ice  bv  reason  of  its  weight,  instead  of  forming  a 
glacier-table.  After  we  walked  about  six  hundred  and  sixty 
yards  across  the  glacier  (its  full  width  was  some  three-quarters 
of  a mile),  farther  advance  was  cut  off  in  every  direction  by  a 
deep  crevasse,  a dozen  feet  wide  and  forty-five  in  depth.  Its 
sides  were  a deep  blue,  and  from  them  hung  long  icicles. 

On  August  3d  we  started  on  a new  excursion,  namely,  back 
again  to  the  Yam-bulak  glacier,  to  put  in  rods,  by  which,  after 
a certain  time  had  elapsed,  we  could  tell  at  what  rate  the  ice 
was  moving.  It  was  by  no  means  easy  to  find  a stick  long 
enough  for  this  purpose,  for  there  was  not  a tree  or  a bush  to 
be  found  in  the  whole  of  the  Sarik-kol  valley,  except  half  a 
dozen  stunted  birches  at  Kayindeh-masar,  which,  of  course, 
could  not  be  touched,  as  they  were  growing  on  holy  ground. 
At  length  AThim  Bai  succeeded  in  finding  a bundle  of  oks,  or 
poles  used  to  support  the  dome-shaped  roof  of  the  yurt. 


THROUGH  ASIA 


128 


Equipped  with  these,  we  succeeded  in  getting  nearly  580 
yards  across  the  ice,  and  putting  in  nine  poles,  some  in  small 
moraine-ridges,  others  in  the  ice  itself,  and  their  position  was 
marked  on  a map  drawn  to  the  scale  of  1:4480.  It  would 
have  been  better  to  have  placed  them  in  a straight  line  across 
the  glacier;  but  this  was  impracticable,  as  the  whole  of  the 
left  side  was  absolutely  inaccessible,  and  formed  a projecting 
hump  as  compared  with  the  right  side.  This  is  because  the 
left  half  of  the  glacier  is  completely  shaded  by  the  mountain 
crests  to  the  south  of  it  during  its  entire  passage  between  the 
enclosing  walls  of  rock.  Not  a ray  of  sunshine,  therefore. 


HUH. DING  A KIRGHIZ  VURT 


reaches  this  part  of  the  glacier  until  after  it  has  emerged  from 
the  mountain’s  arms.  The  right  half,  on  the  other  hand, 
even  when  in  the  gorge,  is  e.xposed  to  the  direct  rays  of  the 
sun,  and  therefore  melts  incomparably  the  quicker.  This 
fact  was  plainly  perceptible  in  the  shape  of  the  glacier,  even 
after  its  issue  from  the  passage,  as  the  right  half  was  about 
130  feet  lower  than  the  left.  After  it  emerged,  the  glacier 
tongue  spread  out  to  two  or  three  times  its  previous  breadth, 
and  became  correspondingly  thinner,  so  that  the  process  of 
melting  goes  on  over  a more  e.xtended  surface,  and  the  tongue 
soon  shrinks  to  a comparatively  narrow  jioint. 

The  inevitable  hail-storm  came  on  at  four  o’clock.  First 
of  all,  in  the  deep  valley  below  us,  we  saw  light  clouds,  like 


THE  GLACIERS  OE  MUS-TAGH-ATA 


329 


smoke,  luirrying  before  the  north  wind.  'I'hen  they  swiftly 
ascended  the  mountain-side,  and  before  we  knew  where  we 
were  had  enveloi)ed  us  in  their  disagreeable  vajDor.  It  grew 
dark  and  cold.  The  hailstones  rattled  on  the  ice,  and  we 
could  do  no  work,  only  seat  ourselves  under  the  shelter  of  a 
lofty  ice-]Dvramid,  and  wait.  When  we  got  back  to  the  tent  a 
long  time  afterwards  we  were  very  tired  and  half  frozen. 

The  new  day  which  broke  promised  fine  weather  by  way 
of  a change,  and  we  had  a glorious  trij)  to  the  Kamper-kishlak 
glacier,  the  right  side  of  which  we  had  still  to  e.xamine.  On 
that  side  the  glacier  sent  out  a massive  “spine,”  which  almost 
touched  the  left  fiank  of  the  lateral  moraine  of  the  Sarimek 
srlacier.  It  consisted  of  a sheet  of  ice,  nearlv  100  feet  thick, 
broken  off  almost  perpendicularly  at  its  face,  and  on  the  whole 
was  remarkable  for  its  great  purity.  There  were  no  moraines 
on  the  front  wall  of  the  glacier  worthy  of  the  name  ; but  there 
were  occasional  blocks  of  gneiss  and  mica-schist,  the  largest 
measuring  as  much  as  850  cubic  feet.  This  rudimentary 
terminal  moraine  was  fed  in  a niggardl}'  way  by  the  frag- 
ments of  rock  we  had  seen  scattered  about  over  the  surface 
of  the  glacier. 

At  the  base  of  the  glacier- wall  there  was  a large  grotto,  a 
dozen  feet  high  and  nearly  as  many  deep,  which  had  mani- 
festly been  caused  by  the  relative  warmth  of  the  earth.  Four 
small  glacial  streams  and  several  little  rills  dropped  from  the 
edge  of  the  ice  in  pretty  cascades.  The  largest  had  a fall  of 
sixty  feet,  and  had  eaten  into  the  edge  of  the  ice,  so  that  it 
did  not  come  all  the  way  from  the  top.  Another  had  cut 
nearly  twenty  feet  into  the  ice,  and  as  the  brash  had  got 
heaped  up  on  top  of  it,  the  streamlet  resembled  a spring 
issuing  from  a hole  in  the  level  wall.  It  was  a beautiful 
sight,  to  stand  underneath  the  big  waterfall  and  watch  it 
shoot  out  into  the  air  as  if  from  the  gutter  of  a house,  split 
into  a thousand  drops  that  glittered  like  pearls  in  the  sun. 
The  ice  was  everywhere  as  soft  as  a sponge,  so  that  we  could 
actually  make  “snowballs  ” of  it.  Water  was  dripping,  trick- 
ling in  every  direction  ; no  matter  which  way  we  turned  we 
heard  the  sound  of  bubbling  and  running  water.  The  ice 


THROUGH  ASIA 


was  courting  destruction  in  venturing  down  to  tracts  whose 
climate  it  could  not  endure.  Beneath  the  face  of  the  glacier 
were  large  detached  blocks  and  heaps  of  extremely  rotten  ice, 
which  had  broken  off  and  were  melting  rapidly.  When  the 
grotto,  just  mentioned,  has  become  sufficiently  hollowed  out, 
and  the  superincumbent  mass  of  ice  too  heavy,  the  latter 
will  crash  down,  and  contribute  to  the  more  hasty  decay  of 
the  glacier. 

Keeping  immediately  alongside  the  ice,  we  then  rode  round 
the  face  of  the  glacier,  and  continued  up  its  right  side.  At 
one  point  at  the  foot  of  the  glacier,  where  a cascade  splashed 
noisily  into  a pool  of  its  own  making,  the  Kamper-kishlak 
approached  so  close  to  the  lateral  moraine  of  its  neighbor, 
the  Sarimek  glacier,  that  we  could  scarcely  get  through  the 
narrow  passage. 

'khe  surface  of  the  glacier  sloped  at  an  angle  of  twenty-five 
and  a half  degrees,  and  was  thus  extraordinarily  steej),  as 
compared  with  the  glaciers  of  the  Alps,  which  often  have  an 
inclination  of  less  than  one  degree  in  their  lower  regions. 
'I'he  two  contiguous  glaciers  of  Sarimek  and  Kamper-kishlak 
approached  each  other  at  right  angles,  and  between  them, 
near  the  rocky  spine  which  divided  their  common  ;^c^^^-basin, 
a brook  issued  and  helped  to  fill  up  the  intervening  space 
with  mounds  of  gravel  and  patches  of  <^7'ass.  The  latter, 
however,  was  only  in  demand  by  the  wild  goats  of  the 
mountain. 

We  found  that  the  left  half  of  the  Kamj^er-kishlak  glacier, 
like  that  of  the  Yam-bulak,  was  much  higher  than  the  right 
half,  and  was  further  encumbered  with  huge  moraines,  wliilc 
the  right  side  had  hardly  any.  This  circumstance  shows 
jdainly  that  the  stream  of  ice  was  trending  towards  the  left 
wall  of  rock,  where  it  jn-essed  close  against  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  and  derived  its  moraine  material  from  near  at 
hand.  On  the  left  side  the  ice  lay  underneath  tlie  moraine; 
while  on  the  right  the  moraine  lay  underneath  the  ice. 


CIl.\PTh:R  XXVIII 


MV  SKCOXl)  A'l'l'EMPr  I’O  ASCEND  MCS-TA('.H-A'rA 

Tiik  whole  time  we  had  been  at  this  considerable  eleva- 
tion, an  elevation  not  exceeded  by  many  of  the  Alpine  peaks, 
I had  kept  an  eye  on  the  Mus-tagh-ata,  watching  for  a suit- 
able opportunity  to  make  an  ascent;  but  the  weather  had  in- 
variably rendered  it  impossible.  At  one  time  it  snowed  and 
hailed:  at  another  there  was  an  icy  north  wind,  which  took 
awav  all  desire  to  ascend  to  still  higher  regions,  where  the 
wind  whirled  up  the  fine  snow  in  thick  clouds  like  dust.  At 
yet  another  time  the  clear  sky  and  bright  sunshine  would 
tempt  us  to  make  a start ; but  suddenly  bad  weather  would 
set  in  and  uj)set  all  our  ))lans  for  the  day.  Two  or  three 
times  we  actually  had  the  yaks  ready,  and  the  loads  dis- 
tributed among  their  bearers,  and  were  about  to  start,  when 
a storm  delaved  us;  and  in  order  not  to  waste  the  day  en- 
tirely, we  gave  up  the  Mus-tagh-ata  and  went  some  shorter 
excursion  to  the  glaciers. 

By  this  it  was  the  5th  of  August,  and,  as  we  had  already 
discovered,  to  our  cost,  that  winter  was  an  early  guest  in 
those  altitudes  and  that  we  had  not  much  time  to  spare,  we 
determined  to  be  ready  for  a campaign  the  following  day. 
The  5th  was  given  up  to  rest.  Solemn  silence  reigned  in 
the  yurt,  and  I was  the  prey  of  a presentiment  that  we  should 
soon  be  hovering  between  heaven  and  earth.  Our  yaks, 
which  had  been  worked  very  hard  of  late,  were  discharged, 
and  returned  home  with  their  owners;  while  Mollah  Islam 
procured  fresh  ones  in  excellent  condition  in  their  stead. 
Saddles,  alpen-stocks,  rope,  provisions,  and  instruments  were 
collected  and  packed  in  the  evening.  The  day  had  been 
fine ; but  at  dusk  the  usual  hail-storm  came  on,  accompanied 


332 


THROUGH  ASIA 


by  a gale  of  wind.  The  mountain,  with  its  snowy  wastes 
and  white  ice-fields,  which  a while  ago  had  glittered  in  the 
still,  bright  evening  air,  was  again  enveloped  in  thick  clouds, 
and  towards  evening  the  wind -gods  whirled  in  a frantic 
dance  round  one  of  their  loftiest  thrones. 

Leaving  Islam  Bai  to  take  care  of  the  camp,  I set  off,  on 
August  6th,  at  half-past  six  in  the  morning,  accompanied  by 
Yehim  Bai,  Mollah  Islam,  and  three  other  Kirghiz,  and  a 
train  of  seven  splendid  yaks. 

The  day  was  brilliantly  fine;  so  absolutely  clear  was  the 
atmosphere  that  the  smallest  details  of  the  mountain  could 
be  distinguished  even  from  its  foot,  and  the  summit  seemed 
quite  near,  although  the  declivities  deceptively  hid  the  high- 
est parts.  Not  a breath  of  wind  stirred  the  air;  not  a cloud 
marred  the  serene  purity  of  the  heavens.  At  first  we  rode 
slowly,  in  the  light  of  the  rising  sun,  up  the  gradually  ascend- 
ing slopes  of  the  Yam-bulak-bashi,  then  up  the  steeps  in  the 
shade  of  the  rock,  till  the  sun  got  so  high  that  it  beat  full  in 
our  faces. 

We  made  good  progress,  and  by  ten  minutes  past  seven 
had  reached  the  height  of  14,760  feet.  The  steep  declivities 
were  now  littered  with  gravelly  material,  of  the  same  varieties 
as  the  solid  rock  higher  up.  The  gravel  was  so  closely  packed 
that  no  vegetation  was  able  to  insinuate  its  roots.  Two  of 
the  yaks  had  already  “ struck,”  and  as  they  delayed  us  very 
much  we  left  them  behind.  The  Kirghiz  preferred  to  walk, 
and  took  it  in  turns  to  lead  the  big,  handsome  yak  I was 
riding,  which  climbed  up  the  sloping  debris  without  any  ap- 
parent effort.  By  eight  o’clock  we  had  reached  the  altitude 
of  Mont  Blanc,  and  a short  distance  above  that,  at  16,250  feet, 
we  reached  the  snow-line.  At  first  the  snow  lay  in  smallish 
patches,  with  the  debris  exposed  between  them,  then  in  a con- 
tinuous sheet,  through  which  individual  fragments  of  rock 
protruded  here  and  there,  d'he  snow  was  compact  and 
coarse-grained,  but  had  no  hard  crust.  After  we  had  as- 
cended another  six  or  seven  hundred  feet,  the  snow  was 
caked  with  a Biin  crust,  and  lay  so  solidly  |)acked  that  the 
men’s  soft  leather  boots  left  no  footjjrint  behind  ; but  then,  it 


M irs-TA(;n-ATA  skkn  kkom  rills  wkst 


SITCOM)  AITHMPT  AT  M US-TAGH-ATA 


^ - 
OOD 

is  true,  they  were  not  provided  witli  wooden  soles.  The  snow 
crunched  under  the  yaks’  pointed  hoofs;  but  the  animals 
never  once  stumbled.  The  higher  we  went  the  deeper  grew 
the  snow,  though  it  never  formed  drifts  worthy  of  the  name. 
I'rom  a quarter  of  an  inch  its  depth  increased  to  four  or  five, 
and  at  the  highest  point  we  reached  it  was  just  under  four- 
teen inches.  The  continual  wind,  the  e.xcessive  evaporation, 
and  the  dome-like  shape  of  the  underlying  surface  which  ex- 
posed the  snow  to  the  action  of  the  wind,  made  it  difficult 
for  snow-drifts  to  accumulate.  The  snow  crystals  glittered  in 
the  sun  with  a thousand  dazzling  facets,  and  although  I wore 
double  snow  - spectacles,  I suffered  somewhat  from  snow- 
blindness.  The  men,  who  had  no  glasses,  complained  that 
evervthing  seemed  to  be  going  round,  and  that  sometimes 
the  landscape  appeared  to  be  quite  black. 

We  stopped  to  rest  more  and  more  frequently.  I em- 
ployed the  time  in  making  sketches,  and  in  taking  our  bear- 
ings with  the  compass.  We  followed  the  edge  of  the  rocky 
wall  on  the  riirht-hand  side  of  the  glacier,  and  therefore  had 
a glorious  view  over  its  entire  surface,  which  glittered  below 
US.  Up  in  the  couloir,  where  the  rocky  walls  gradually  be- 
came lower,  according  as  the  surface  of  the  glacier  rose  high- 
er,  and  where  they  diverged  somewhat  from  each  other,  until 
they  finally  merged  into  the  rounded  ridge  which  connected 
the  two  culminating  summits  of  the  mountain,  there  was  a 
splendid  view  of  the  distant  trough-shaped  depression. 

In  the  middle  part  of  the  glacier  longitudinal  crevasses 
predominated,  the  largest  ran  exactly  midway  between  the 
walls  of  rock,  and  stretched  down  towards  the  tip  of  the  glac- 
ier’s tongue.  At  three  places  in  particular,  where  the  ice 
glided  over  a natural  depression,  they  were  intersected  by 
transverse  crevasses ; and  the  chequered  system,  with  ice 
cubes  and  ice  pillars,  was  the  result.  In  one  place  the  cre- 
vasses appeared  to  start  from  a common  centre  and  radiate  in 
all  directions,  as  they  were  broad  and  gaping  in  the  middle, 
but  grew  narrower  towards  their  extremities.  The  glacier 
was  probably  about  five-eighths  of  a mile  broad, and  its  breadth 
ever}’where  tolerably  equal.  It  appeared  to  be  considerably 


THROUGH  ASIA 


o o A 

steeper  than  it  really  was  ; but  in  this  it  was  the  eye  that 
was  at  fault.  The  mountain  summit  was  high  above  us, 
while  the  tongue  of  the  glacier  stretched  a long  way  below 
us ; and  in  the  clear,  attenuated  mountain  air  the  distance 
between  these  two  points  appeared  to  be  quite  short.  No 
traces  of  striation  or  glacial  scratches  were  perceptible  on 
the  perpendicular  rocks,  which  towered  1300  feet  above  the 
surface  of  the  glacier.  This  negative  testimony  does  not, 
however,  count  for  much;  as  if  at  any  time  such  indications 
did  exist,  they  would  long  ago  have  been  obliterated  by  the 
weathering  of  the  rocks,  a process  which  is  ceaselessly  going 
on  in  these  parts,  mainly  because  of  the  enormous  and  sud- 
den changes  of  temperature.  The  part  of  the  mountain  on 
which  we  then  were  had  consequently  a ragged,  serrated 
edge,  consisting  of  an  unbroken  series  of  rocky  projections 
and  undulations  which  had  nothinsr  whatever  to  do  with  the 

o 

glacier,  as  they  were  exclusively  the  result  of  weathering. 

The  side  of  the  mountain  sloped  here  at  an  angle  of  twen- 
ty-two degrees  towards  the  plain  of  Su-bashi,  a gradient  which 
was  easily  perceptible  in  the  rarefied  air.  The  snow  became 
purer  and  more  dazzling,  and  the  icy  crust  cracked  audibly. 
We  advanced  slowly,  doubling  one  rocky  projection  after 
another,  and  skirting  the  bays  or  recesses  between  them, 
faithfully  following  the  outline  of  the  edge  of  the  rocks;  while 
new  perspectives  of  exactly  the  same  kind  continued  to  ap- 
pear one  after  the  other  the  higher  we  ascended.  .At  an  al- 
titude of  16,700  feet  Mollah  Islam  and  two  of  the  other  Kir- 
ghiz left  their  yaks  in  the  snow,  declaring  that  it  would  be 
better  to  walk.  However,  thev  did  not  get  more  than  six 
hundred  feet  higher  when  they  fell  down  from  exhaustion 
and  headache,  and  were  soon  dead  asleejj  in  the  snow-drifts. 

I went  on  with  the  two  remaining  Kirghiz  and  the  two 
yaks.  My  beast  was  always  led  by  one  of  them  ; the  other 
yak  they  rode  turn  and  turn  about.  They,  too,  complained 
of  splitting  headache,  and  were  ready  to  drop  from  breath- 
lessness. I did  not  suffer  much  from  either  of  these  symp- 
toms, though  I had  a slight  headache,  which  increased  when 
we  got  higher  up;  but  I was  only  attacked  with  breathless- 


THK  YAKS  TAKING  A REST  OX  THE  LOWER  SLOl’ES  OF  IHE  M US-'l'AGII-A'I'A 


SliCUXI)  ATTKMPT  AT  MUS-TACiH-ATA  339 


ness  when  I got  off  the  yak  to  make  observations.  I he 
sliglit  e.xertion  of  remounting  the  animal  gave  me  violent 
paljMtation  of  the  heart,  and  1 was  almost  choked  by  breath- 
lessness. On  the  other  hand,  the  yak’s  movements,  which 
were  now  much  more  labored,  did  not  affect  me  in  the  least. 
I had  suffered  much  more  at  a far  lower  altitude  on  Mount 
Demavend,  in  Persia,  but  on  that  occasion  1 was  on  foot. 
The  secret  lies  in  avoiding  bodily  e.xertion  as  far  as  possible; 
for  instance,  you  can  ride  Uj)  to  a very  considerable  altitude 
without  suffering  much  from  that  species  of  discomfort.  In 
this  ascent,  however,  all  the  Kirghiz  were  ill,  a couple  of  them 
even  declared  they  were  going  to  die;  while  I,  on  the  con- 
trary, kept  comparatively  brisk  the  whole  time.  IKit  the 
Kirghiz,  in  spite  of  my  remonstrances,  persisted  in  leaving 
their  yaks  behind,  and  what  with  struggling  through  the 
snow  and  climbing  up  the  steep  declivities,  they  exhausted 
the  strength  which  they  so  greatly  needed  to  withstand  the 
enervation  caused  by  the  rarefaction  of  the  air. 

Meanwhile,  a fresh  wind  sprang  up  from  the  southwest, 
driving  the  snow,  which  was  as  fine  as  Hour,  and  without  a 
crust,  into  eddies;  while  the  sky  became  hidden  by  thick 
clouds.  As  we  were  all  now  rather  done  up,  we  determined 
to  halt  and  take  observations.  Bread  and  tea  were  brought 
out,  and  fuel  to  boil  the  water  for  the  latter;  but  we  had  only 
to  look  at  the  food,  and  we  were  seized  with  such  a choking 
sensation  that  none  of  us  would  touch  it.  We  suffered  only 
from  thirst,  and  looked  longingly  at  the  snow,  which  the 
yaks  licked  up  in  large  mouthfuls. 

The  view  which  presented  itself  from  this  point  (20,660 
feet)  was  inconceivably  grand.  We  could  see  right  across 
the  Sarik-kol  chain  far  away  to  the  picturesque  snow-decked 
mountains  of  Trans-alai'  and  the  Murghab.  Only  a few  sum- 
mits in  the  nearer  parts  of  the  Sarik-kol  mountains  seemed 
to  exceed  16,500  feet  in  height.  But  in  the  Mus-tagh  chain, 
which  is  a continuation  of  Mus -tagh  - ata,  there  were  on  the 
north  a couple  of  peaks  which  did  not  fall  far  short  of  the 
“ Ice  Mountains’  Father”  himself  in  altitude.  The  whole  of 
the  Sarik  - kol  valley  was  spread  out  like  a map  under  our 


340 


THROUGH  ASIA 


feet,  clearly  visible  from  Ullug-rabat  to  Bulun-kul.  Every 
lake,  except  the  Upper  Bassyk-kul,  which  was  hidden  by  in- 
tervening rocks,  shone  blue -green  in  the  prevalent  gray  of 
the  moraine  landscape,  but  from  our  position  looked  like  in- 
significant pools.  The  Yam-bulak  glacier  pointed  its  icy 
finger  down  the  valley,  and  far  beyond  its  outer  extremity  we 
were  able  to  distinguish  the  concentric  semicircles  of  its  for- 
mer terminal  moraine,  long  since  dead.  We  could  not  have 
obtained  a better  view  anywhere  of  the  glacier  streams  and 
their  beds  between  the  out-stretched  arms  of  the  mountain 
than  from  the  spot  where  we  stood. 

The  large  rivers  of  the  Yam-bulak  and  Chum-kar-kashka 
glaciers  ran  parallel  to  the  very  end  of  the  valley,  which  was 
as  gray  as  steel  from  their  alluvium. 

There  still  remained  four  other  rocky  buttresses  above  us, 
and  behind  them  the  northern  summit  of  the  mountain,  now 
appearing  quite  near.  The  parts  between  it  and  the  farthest 
visible  point  of  the  mountain  had  a flatter  perspective. 

We  now  held  a council  of  war.  The  day  was  drawing  to 
an  end,  and  it  was  beginning  to  be  cold  in  the  wind  (33.3° 
k'ahr.  or  0.7°  C.  at  4 p.m.).  Moreover,  the  Kirghiz  were  so 
done  up  that  they  could  go  no  farther;  the  yaks  stood  pant- 
ing, with  their  tongues  hanging  out.  We  had  reached  the  foot 
of  a dome-shaped  elevation,  which  gradually  nierged  into  the 
flat  crown  of  the  summit.  On  its  slopes  the  snow  lay  in 
more  massive  and  more  compact  layers ; and  there  were 
cracks  and  displacements  in  it  which  pointed  to  a tendency 
to  avalanches.  The  Kirghiz  warned  me  against  attempting 
this  ])recipitous  snow -slope.  They  declared  it  was  ready  to 
fall ; and  that  the  yaks,  owing  to  their  weight,  might  easily 
be  the  cause  of  an  avalanche,  in  which  case  we  should  reach 
the  foot  of  the  mountain  quicker  than  we  bargained  for,  al- 
though in  a mutilated  condition.  They  furthermore  told 
me  that  from  the  valley  below  avalanches  were  sometimes 
seen  falling  on  this  very  slope.  The  snow  then  soared  u]3  in 
enormous  clouds,  rolled  together,  and  slijiped  over  the  preci- 
pices, smothering  them  in  clouds  of  fine  i)owder,  and  when  it 
finally  reached  the  valley  it  was  jiartially  turned  to  ice. 


Sl'X'OXI)  ATTEMPT  AT  M US-TA(;H-ATA  341 


At  the  level  which  we  had  then  attained  the  snow  rested 
chiefly  on  a rock  and  gravel  foundation,  which  was  often  ex- 
posed in  the  tracks  made  by  the  yaks.  It  only  rested  on  ice 
close  along  the  edge  of  the  rocks,  from  which  dejiended  long 
icicles  pointing  straight  down  upon  the  surface  of  the  glacier. 
On  the  top  of  the  opjjosite  or  south  wall,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  was  a thick  slieet  of  jnire  blue  ice,  clothing  the  moun- 
tain as  with  a sui)ple  coat  of  mail  and  conforming  to  its 
every  irregularity. 

Though  sorely  against  the  grain,  I now  determined  to  turn 
back.  W'e  rapidly  descended  in  our  own  footsteps  and  soon 
reached  a more  clement  region,  picking  up  the  deserters  and 
the  yaks,  which  were  still  standing  where  we  had  left  them, 
and  reaching  the  camp  at  seven  o’clock  in  the  evening. 
There  we  found  visitors  awaiting  us  with  gifts  of  provisions. 

Apart  from  the  sj)Iendid  opportunity  it  afforded  for  taking 
our  bearings,  and  apart  from  the  observations  1 had  made, 
this  expedition  convinced  me  that  the  northern  summit  of 
the  Mus-tagh-ata  could  hardly  be  reached  in  a single  day's 
climb.  It  would  be  better,  therefore,  on  a future  occasion  to 
allow  two  days,  camping  the  first  night  at  a considerable 
height,  and  continuing  the  next  day  with  our  yaks  well  rested 
and  with  only  a light  equipment.  The  Kirghiz  and  Islam 
Bai  were  very  keen  to  make  another  attempt,  so  soon  as  a 
good  opportunity  presented  itself. 

But  we  had  still  three  large  glaciers  to  examine  farther 
east,  and  therefore  struck  camp  on  August  8th,  and  moved 
to  Terghen-bulak.  Mollah  Islam  and  I made  a detour  round 
the  western  foot  of  the  mountain.  I wanted  to  see  the  Yam- 
bulak  glacier-stream  at  the  spot  where  it  received  its  contrib- 
utaries.  Where  we  crossed  it,  it  was  33 J feet  broad,  13! 
inches  deep  (maximum),  and  had  a velocity  of  7^  feet  in  the 
second,  and  a temperature  of  42.3°  Fahr.  (5.7°  C.).  On  both 
sides  of  it  there  were  gigantic  moraines  of  gneiss  and  crystal- 
line schist,  in  pieces  varying  from  5000  cubic  feet  to  small 
fragments,  with  binding  material  of  glacial  clay,  though  with- 
out any  signs  of  stratification.  Along  the  path  of  the  stream 
the  soil  was  washed  away  from  between  the  big  blocks,  so 


342 


THROUGH  ASIA 


that  they  encumbered  its  bed,  causing  waterfalls  and  cata- 
racts. It  was  therefore  no  easy  matter  to  get  across  the 
stream  with  the  yaks,  as  the  water  was  so  muddy  they 
could  not  see  where  to  put  their  feet;  and  often  I felt  my 
animal  disappearing,  so  to  speak,  from  under  me,  when  it 
stepped  between  two  deceptive  bowlders,  round  which  the 
current  was  foaming  and  eddying.  It  was  a decided  relief 
to  find  myself  riding  up  the  opposite  bank.  A magnificent 
view  unfolded  itself  to  the  east,  where  the  white  glacier- 
tongue  lay  embedded  between  its  gigantic  moraines  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain. 

W'e  rode  from  the  tongue  of  the  glacier,  up  along  the  left 
lateral  moraine,  to  the  place  where  the  ice  issued  from  its 
rock-bound  cradle.  The  marginal  moraine  consisted  entirely 
of  huge  gneiss  bowlders,  most  of  them  measuring  about  3500 
cubic  feet  each ; while  the  rock  itself  was  a hard,  dark  crystal- 
line schist,  falling  at  an  angle  of  twenty-one  degrees  towards 
the  north  - northwest.  The  moraine,  then,  received  its  mate- 
rial from  higher  regions.  It  was  evident  from  other  circum- 
stances that  the  lower  rocks  could  not  contribute  to  its  forma- 
tion ; for  between  them  and  it  there  were  a bergschriind  or 
fissure  and  a gravel-strewn  declivity,  which  prevented  the  ice 
from  comino:  into  contact  with  the  wall  of  rock. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  make  our  way  through  this  laby- 
rinth of  gneiss  bowlders.  They  were  too  big  for  the  yaks  to 
clamber  over;  hence  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  dis- 
mount, and  let  Mollah  Islam  go  round  with  the  animals,  and 
meet  me  at  the  base  of  the  moraine.  Alone,  and  followed  by 
my  faithful  Yolldash,  I made  my  way  as  best  1 could,  some- 
times crawling  over  the  rocks,  sometimes  balancing  on  them. 
They  were  separated  from  each  other  by  dark,  chilly  fissures, 
in  whose  dej^ths  the  water  gurgled  against  the  stones  at  the 
bottom.  At  one  time  I managed  to  toboggan  down  the  side 
of  a bowlder  so  successfully  that  I jammed  my  foot  in  be- 
tween it  and  another  rock,  and  had  to  take  off  my  boot  to  set 
myself  at  liberty.  In  other  jdaces  I found  it  better  to  wade 
through  the  water,  under,  and  between,  the  blocks;  and  it 
was  with  a feelimi' of  intense  relief  that  I at  last  succeeded  in 


SKCONI)  AT'rKMPT  AT  M US-TACAl-ATA  343 


extricatini;  myself  from  that  dangerous  and  gloomy  labyrinth 
where  I might  easily  have  got  lost  if  I had  not  had  a com- 
])ass.  After  many  adventures  I reached  the  slope  at  the  foot 
of  the  moraine.  Then  looking  back,  to  my  dismay  I beheld 
Volldash  on  a huge  bowlder,  whining  and  howling  dismally, 
and  not  able  to  move  either  backward  or  forward.  Then  he 
disappeared  behind  the  bowlder.  1 heard  him  sjdash  into 
the  water,  and  finally  he  emerged  from  undenicath  the  mo- 
raine, evidently  elated,  though  slightly  lame  of  one  paw.  At 
the  same  time  he  was  annoyed  with  me  for  having  decoyed 
him  into  such  an  awkward  predicament. 

.After  traversing  a slojjing  piece  of  greensward,  down  which 
a fresh  stream  was  tiowing,  we  reached  the  tongue  of  the 
Chal-tumak  Hacier,  which  had  the  considerable  inclination  of 
24.9°.  Its  surface  was  black  with  gravel,  through  which  soli- 
tary white  pyramids  stuck  up;  but  the  side  of  the  glacier  was 
jjolished  like  steel. 

It  was  twilight  when  we  reached  the  new  camp,  where 
everything  was  in  order.  Not  far  off  lay  the  aghil  (aul  or 
tent  village)  of  Chal-tumak,  consisting  of  four  uys  (tents). 
The  chief,  Togda  Hai  Beg,  a handsome,  refined-looking  Tajik, 
came  at  once  to  pay  his  respects.  He  told  me  that  the  vil- 
lage had  altogether  twenty-five  inhabitants,  and  that  one  tent 
was  inhabited  by  Tajiks  (Aryans,  speaking  a Persian  dialect), 
and  the  other  three  by  Naiman  Kirghiz.  He  said  that  they 
lived  in  the  neighborhood  the  whole  year  round,  but  wan- 
dered from  yeylau  (summer  grazing-ground)  to  yeylau,  stoj5- 
ping  one  or  two  months  at  each  place.  In  winter  it  was  ter- 
ribly cold,  and  there  were  heavy  falls  of  snow,  making  it 
difficult  for  the  sheep  to  find  pasture.  After  a continuous 
snowfall  enormous  avalanches  were  frec[uent,  carrying  down 
bowlders  and  debris  with  them. 

The  kind  old  beg  gave  us  a sheep  and  a bowl  of  yak’s 
milk,  and  was  only  sorry,  he  said,  that  his  great  age  prevented 
him  from  coming  with  us  on  our  mountaineering  trips.  He 
told  us  the  old  story  of  the  sheikh,  who  went  up  Mus-tagh- 
ata  and  saw  a white-bearded  man  and  a white  camel,  and 
brought  down  from  the  top  an  enormous  iron  pot,  which  is 


344 


THROUGH  ASIA 


now  kept  at  a masar  (tomb)  in  the  Shindeh  valley.  We  talked 
for  a long  time,  chiefly  about  my  plans;  and  it  was  late  in 
the  evening  before  the  old  man  went  back  to  his  lonely  home 
amono:  the  moraines. 

The  air  was  milder  than  usual.  The  night  was  bright  and 
still ; and  the  snow-fields  gleamed  silvery  white  in  the  moon- 
light. The  moraines  flung  out  their  deep  shadows,  and  un- 
derneath gaped  the  dark  abyss  of  the  valley  through  the 
weird  stillness  of  the  night.  Every  now  and  again  the  dis- 
tant bleating  of  the  beg’s  flocks,  or  the  tinkle  of  running 
water,  penetrated  to  our  ears. 

On  August  9th  we  explored  the  left  side  of  the  Chal-tumak 
glacier,  riding  up  the  moraine  to  a point  on  the  flank  of  the 
mountain  which  gave  us  a splendid  view  over  the  glacier.  It 
was  quite  regular  in  shape,  and  was  intersected  by  a double 
system  of  crevasses,  one  transverse,  the  other  longitudinal. 
This  resulted  in  a series  of  ice-pyramids,  and  gave  the  glacier 
a chequered  appearance.  The  stones  and  fragments  of  rock 
which  fell  from  the  moraine  into  the  crevasses  caused  the  in- 
tersecting lines  to  look  like  black  stripes. 

At  the  place  where  we  were  standing,  the  gneiss  cavities 
had  been  some  time  or  other  polished  by  the  ice  of  a former 
branch  of  the  ice-sheet.  This  ice-sheet  still  covers  immense 
areas  on  the  side  of  Mus-tagh-ata,  wrapping  the  body  of  the 
giant  like  a tattered  mantle,  hanging  down  the  declivities  in 
points  and  folds  ; while  its  edge  is  often  broken  off  so  abruptly 
that  the  beautiful,  blue-green  ice  seen  underneath  the  white 
snow  with  which  it  is  capped  produces  quite  a dazzling  effect. 
It  is  of  course  only  on  the  convex  parts  of  the  mountain  that 
this  glacial  formation,  which  resembles  the  Norwegian  glac- 
iers, can  be  developed;  for  in  the  concave  parts  we  found 
the  usual  Alpine  glacial  structure — a bowl-shaped  neve-hsi'im 
and  a deep,  narrow  glacier-bed. 

On  the  return  journey  we  kept  between  the  ice-pyramids 
and  the  lateral  moraine,  where  a stream  glided  noiselessly 
along  like  oil  flowing  in  a well-greased  metal  pipe.  It  had 
undermined  the  base  of  one  of  the  j)yramids  so  much  that 
every  minute  it  threatened  to  topple  over. 


TOGUA  BAI  BEG 


SKCOXl)  ATTEMPT  AT  MUS-TACiH-ATA  347 


I'inally  we  jDaicl  a visit  to  'I'ogda  Hai  lieg,  who  called  to- 
gether the  elders  of  the  village  and  offered  us  dastarkhan  (re- 
freshment). His  aul  lay  on  the  bank  of  the  glacier-stream, 
and  was  surrounded  by  jjastures  on  which  the  camels,  yaks, 
and  horses  of  the  aul  were  grazing,  and  where  the  women 
were  at  work  milking  the  sheep.  Several  of  these  Tajik  wom- 
en were  ])retty,  and  looked  ha])py  and  good-natured  in  their 
picturesque  but  slovenly  dress.  Phey  seemed  to  have  fre- 
quent errands  to  the  tent,  and  generally  took  the  opportunity 
to  have  a good  look  at  the  strangers. 

The  view  to  the  east  was  one  of  the  grandest  I have  ever 
seen.  In  front  of  us  the  colossal  mountain  mass  soaring  up 
to  a giddy  height — to  the  ethereal  workshops  in  which  the 
eternal  snow  spins  the  delicate  webs  which  it  .sends  down  the 
slopes  of  the  mountain  as  offerings  to  the  sun;  where  the 
winds  gambol  at  their  will ; and  where  the  stillness  of  death 
divides  sovereignty  with  the  bitter  cold.  Calmly  and  ma- 
jestically the  glacier  moved  from  between  its  mountain  portals 
like  a king  issuing  from  his  royal  hall  ; and  the  moraines  tow- 
ered above  it  like  ramparts  fencing  round  an  impregnable 
castle.  The  turbid  glacier-stream  danced  joyously  down  its 
stony  bed,  as  glad  as  a school-boy  off  for  a holiday,  happy  at 
escaping  from  the  thraldom  of  the  ice,  and  at  reaching  warm- 
er and  more  genial  regions. 

On  August  loth  we  rode  up  beside  the  glacier-stream,  on 
whose  banks  we  were  then  encamped.  It  led  to  the  right 
side  of  the  neighboring  Terghen-bulak  glacier,  from  which, 
indeed,  it  derived  the  greater  part  of  its  waters;  but  it  also 
received  several  affluents  from  the  ice -sheet.  The  erosive 
power  of  the  stream  is  enormous,  and  its  bed  was  filled  with 
round,  polished  stones.  At  one  o’clock  it  carried  210  cubic 
feet  of  water  in  the  second. 

The  right  lateral  moraine  was  about  100  feet  high,  and  hid 
the  glacier,  except  for  a few  detached  pyramids  nearly  fifty 
feet  high.  The  yaks  toiled  on  cautiously  and  with  their  ac- 
customed phlegmatic  unconcern  up  the  deep  gully  between 
the  moraines  and  an  enormous  gravel  slope,  which  had  ac- 
cumulated at  the  foot  of  the  perpendicular  wall  of  rock  to  the 


348 


THROUGH  ASIA 


north,  and  which  was  crowned  by  the  massive  ice-sheet.  Its 
edge  partly  overhung,  and  was  in  part  broken  off ; and  from 
it  the  icicles  hung  down  their  dripping  tips  to  a distance  of 
more  than  30  feet.  From  the  sharp  edge  of  the  rock,  im- 
mediately underneath  the  ice,  the  glacier  water  spouted  forth 
in  innumerable  cascades,  large  and  small — crystal-bright  jets 
which  fell  to  such  a depth  that  they  were  shattered  to  pearl- 
seed  or  powdered  into  a mist  of  rainbow-colored  spray  be- 
fore they  reached  the  bottom.  The  stronger  gusts  of  wind 
dashed  the  spray  against  the  rocks,  down  which  the  water 
then  trickled,  and  finally  found  its  way  to  the  stream  under 
and  over  the  gravel  slope  in  a thousand  tin}'  rills  and 
rivulets. 

The  Terghen  - bulak  was  a triple  glacier  fed  from  three 
sides.  The  middle  ice-stream  was  much  larger  than  the  other 
two,  and  occupied  much  the  greater  area.  A smaller  arm 
joined  it  from  the  right;  and  its  bed  was  sunk  deeper  in  the 
mountain,  so  that  the  surface  of  the  main  glacier  was  consid- 
erably higher  than  the  surface  of  the  branch.  Between  the 
two  rose  a huge  shoulder  of  the  mountain ; and  in  the  angle 
between  the  two  ice -streams,  below  the  outermost  point  of 
the  rocky  shoulder,  there  was  a triangular  hollow,  forming,  as 
it  were,  an  eddy  or  backwater,  such  as  may  be  seen  at  the 
bottom  of  the  pier  of  a bridge  in  a river.  On  the  left  there 
was  a broad,  clean  offshoot  from  the  ice-sheet,  but  it  was  over- 
powered to  such  an  extent  by  the  bigger  mass  of  the  main 
glacier  that  it  was  pressed  in  like  a narrow  wedge  between  it 
and  the  rocky  mountain-arms. 

The  ice  groaned  and  cracked ; stones  and  bowlders  rattled 
down  into  the  crevasses;  and  there  were  glacier- tables  on 
their  pedestals.  F'rom  every  direction  came  the  sound  of 
trickling,  dropping  water.  The  surface  of  the  ice  was  soft 
and  rotten.  Everything,  in  fact,  tended  to  denote  that  this 
glacier  also  was  in  a condition  of  great  activity. 

.As  we  were  riding  back  down  the  mountain  we  saw  a 
couple  of  big  gray  wolves,  which  took  to  their  heels  among 
the  moraines.  The  animals  seemed  to  be  very  common  in 
that  region,  and  now  and  then  were  said  to  carry  off  a yak 


SECOND  ATTEMPT  AT  MUS-TAGH-ATA  349 


calf,  so  that  Togda  Hai  Peg  was  right  to  guard  his  flocks  with 
a jjack  of  savage  dogs. 

'I'he  same  evening  that  chieftain  prepared  a little  make- 
shift yurt,  and  other  necessaries,  for  a two  days’  ascent  of 
Mus-tagh-ata,  which  we  thought  of  trying  again  the  next  day, 
August  I ith. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


MV  THIRD  ATTEMPT  TO  ASCEND  MUS-TAGH-ATA 

When  vve  rose  betimes  the  next  morning,  prepared  to  make 
a fresh  attack  upon  the  giant,  the  chill,  night  air  was  sweep- 
ing clown  off  the  mountain,  and  the  minimum  thermometer 
showed  a reading  of  23.4°  Fahr.  ( — 4.8°  C.).  Along  the 
banks  of  the  stream,  and  between  the  stones  in  its  bed,  there 
were  pieces  of  ice,  against  which  the  water  lapped  and 
gurgled.  On  the  whole,  however,  the  stream  had  dwindled 
to  an  insignificant  rill,  muddier  than  usual,  probably  because 
the  clear,  glacial  water  had  frozen  in  the  higher  regions.  The 
weather  was  particularly  favorable  for  an  ascent;  not  a cloud 
was  to  be  seen,  and  the  slight  breeze  there  was  soon  dropped. 
W'e  intended  climbing  to  a height  of  20,000  feet,  spending 
the  night  there,  and  continuing  as  high  as  we  could  possibly 
get  the  following  day.  P’or  this  reason  we  took  with  us  the 
little  tent,  four  large  bundles  of  teresken  for  fuel,  al])en- 
stocks,  ropes,  ice-axes,  fur  coats,  and  provisions — all  carried 
by  nine  strong  yaks. 

“ Bismillah  !”  (In  God’s  name  !)  cried  the  half-dozen  Moham- 
medans, when  we  were  ready,  and  we  started  leisurely  up  the 
mountain.  I intended  to  exert  myself  as  little  as  possible  in 
order  to  save  my  strength  for  the  following  day,  when  the 
real  climbing,  with  a light  eciuipment,  and  only  three  men, 
would  begin.  My  yak  was  therefore  treated  as  a beast  of 
burden  from  the  very  outset.  A Kirghiz,  riding  or  on  foot, 
led  him  by  his  nose  - rope  the  whole  time,  while  another 
cudgelled  him  behind,  h'or  whenever  the  animal  thought  my 
plans  were  unduly  ambitious,  he  stopped  to  cogitate,  wonder- 
ing what  this  perpetual  scrambling  was  going  to  lead  to.  By 
this  arrangement  it  was  not  even  necessary  for  me  to  goad 


THIRD  AT'FHMPT  AT  MUS-TA(iH-ATA  351 


the  yak,  an  occupation  which  in  itself  is  very  exhausting,  and 
1 could  sit  quietly  with  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  only  taking 
them  out  every  now  and  again  to  look  at  the  aneroids.  The 
needles  of  these  instruments  had  very  little  peace  during  the 
days  we  were  vainly  trying  to  scale  the  “ Ice  Mountains’ 
h'ather.” 

Our  little  caravan  struggled  leisurely  zigzag  up  the  moun- 
tain-side, which  terminated  in  a long  level  ridge  on  the  left 
side  of  the  Chal-tumak  glacier.  The  yaks  grunted  and 
panted,  and  their  blue  tongues  hung  out  of  their  mouths 
dripping. 

The  ridge  was  the  same  gravel-covered  backbone  we  had 
reached  on  .August  9th,  and  we  took  our  first  rest  at  the  point 
where  we  halted  then.  Immediately  south  of  this  the  ice- 
mantle  threw  out  a jM'ojection  with  steep  walls,  and  at  its  base 
the  fallen  pieces  melted  together  into  a sheet  of  ice.  By  one 
o’clock  we  had  reached  the  altitude  of  i 7,000  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea.  Here  the  snow  lay  in  scanty  patches  in  the 
crevices;  it  was  only  in  the  larger  depressions  and  in  the 
clefts  at  the  edge  of  the  gorge  that  it  was  heaped  up  in  any 
considerable  quantity.  It  was  soft,  sticky  snow,  which  melted 
in  the  sun,  and  the  ground  was  consequently  wet  where  it  had 
lain.  The  naked  ridge  finally  tapered  off  and  disappeared 
under  the  ice -mantle.  The  latter  was  not  broken  off  ab- 
ruptly, but  was  quite  thin  at  the  edge,  so  that  we  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  upon  it,  and  was  covered  with  a thin 
layer  of  snow,  which  the  yaks  occasionally  slipped  through. 
But  we  soon  got  on  deeper  snow,  and  then  they  went  as 
steadily  as  they  had  gone  before  over  the  gravel  and  debris. 

Suddenly  we  heard  a deafening  crash  and  roar  from  the 
right-hand  rocky  wall  on  the  other  side  of  the  Chal-tumak 
glacier.  It  was  an  avalanche  which  had  slipped  from  the  ice- 
mantle.  Large  blocks  of  blue  ice  were  hurled  from  the  edge, 
clashing  together,  and  crumbling  into  fine’  white  powder 
as  they  struck  against  the  outjutting  rocks;  then  they  fell 
like  flour  upon  the  surface  of  the  main  glacier.  The  sound 
reverberated  like  thunder  near  at  hand,  the  first  echo  be- 
ing flung  backward  and  forward  many  times  between  the 


352 


THROUGH  ASIA 


rocky  walls  before  it  finally  died  away,  and  was  succeeded 
by  the  usual  silence.  But  a mist  of  powdered  ice-needles 
hung  a long  time  in  front  of  the  glacier.  Meanwhile  we 
had  a splendid  opportunity  of  observing  how  the  glacier 
worked.  The  ice-mantle  kept  slipping,  slipping,  ponderous 
and  massive,  over  the  edge  of  the  rocks.  Again  and  again 
it  broke  off  at  the  crevasses  and  ice-falls,  great  blocks  of  ice 
being  precipitated  into  the  depths  below,  and  reaching  the 
main  glacier  in  powder  as  fine  as  flour.  This,  nevertheless, 
melted  into  its  surface,  and  in  that  way  built  up  a regener- 
ated parasitic  glacier. 

From  the  same  considerable  altitude  we  also  saw  plainly 
how  the  Chal-tumak  glacier  was  fed  from  every  side  by  fract- 
ures from  the  ice-mantle. 

Where  the  small  patches  of  crystalline  debris  underlay  the 
snow,  the  latter  was  longer  in  melting  ; but  about  mid-day 
the  radiation  increased  to  112.8°  Fahr.  (44.9°  C.),  and  the  at- 
mosphere was  brilliantly  clear  and  pure.  The  gravel  was 
succeeded  by  a layer  of  snow  three  to  six  inches  thick,  which 
prevented  the  yaks  from  slipping,  although  the  angle  was  as 
much  as  twenty-four  degrees. 

Here  we  saw  the  tracks  of  four  kiyick  (wild  goats).  The 
animals  fled  up  the  mountain  in  the  direction  of  two  swellings 
of  the  ice ; and  in  another  place  we  found  the  skeleton  of  an 
animal  of  the  same  species  lying  among  the  snow. 

The  naked  ice -mantle  stretched  up  before  us  in  all  its 
dazzling  whiteness.  We  knew,  of  course,  quite  well  that  it 
would  bear  us;  all  the  same,  we  felt  as  if  we  were  venturing 
out  on  thin  ice  when  we  stepped  upon  this  unknown  tract, 
never  before  trodden  by  the  foot  of  man,  and  where  jjerhaps 
the  many  dangers  inseparable  from  a glacial  landscape  threat- 
ened us. 

We  soon  found  ourselves  in  a labyrinth  of  intersecting 
crevasses,  which,  however,  were  as  a rule  not  more  than  a 
foot  broad.  We  were  obliged  to  steer  a zigzag  course  in 
order  to  evade  them,  since  they  generally  widened  out  in 
both  directions.  Sometimes  we  crossed  them  on  snow- 
bridges  ; in  other  places  the  yaks  stej^ped  across  them  with- 


THE  TERGHEN-BULAK  GLACIER 


THIRD  ATTEMPT  AT  MUS-TACH 1-ATA  353 


out  difficulty.  The  Kirghiz  declared  that  for  safety’s  sake 
we  had  better  follow  the  track  of  the  kiyick  ; and  we  did  so. 
'I'he  bridges  along  their  track  sometimes  held,  but  as  often 
as  not  the  yaks  went  through,  for  although  the  snow  had 
supported  the  light  weight  of  the  swift-footed  wild  goats, 
it  was  not  stromr  enough  to  bear  the  solid  burden  of  the 
yak. 

P'arther  on  we  spent  a whole  hour  in  getting  over  a ])art 
of  the  ice  which  was  terribly  cut  up  by  transverse  crevasses, 
and  where  we  had  several  nasty  falls  in  consequence.  .As 
usual,  we  had  the  yaks  to  thank  that  matters  went  as  well  as 
they  did.  When  a yak  put  his  fore-legs  through  the  de- 
ceptive snow  and  fell  into  a hidden  crevasse,  he  carefully 
lodged  his  muzzle  on  the  other  side,  and  so  scrambled  up 
again. 

The  ice  was  now  covered  with  a layer  of  snow  eight  inches 
deep:  but  it  soon  increased  to  fifteen  and  twenty  inches,  so 
that  the  animals  had  hard  work  to  shuffle  and  wade  through 
the  hindering  drifts;  on  the  other  hand,  the  crevasses  were 
less  frequent.  Then  for  a long  time  the  “going”  was  better. 
The  ice-mantle  seemed  to  be  evenly  rounded  off  above  us ; 
but  we  hoped  to  find  a passage  between  the  lofty  ice-swell- 
ings, with  their  blue  glistening  edges,  and  the  snow-sheathed 
surfaces. 

In  several  places  the  ice-mantle  bulged  up  into  bosses  and 
hills,  and  we  went  from  the  one  to  the  other.  We  were  just 
on  the  comparatively  level  summit  of  one  of  these  up-swell- 
ings  when  Mollah  Islam’s  y'ak,  which  was  being  led  by  its 
owner  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  suddenly'  disappeared, 
with  the  exception  of  its  hind-legs  and  horns,  and  the  teresken 
fagots.  These  still  remained  visible  above  the  snow.  The 
animal  had  fallen  into  a crevasse  a yard  wide,  which  had  been 
completely  snowed  over,  and  was  suspended  over  a yawning 
abyss  in  the  ice.  There  it  lay,  grunting  and  puffing  like  a 
creature  doomed  ; but  by'  its  immovability  it  showed  that  it 
fully  realized  the  danger  it  was  in.  If  it  had  moved  ev’er  so 
little  it  would  have  been  precipitated  into  the  crevasse,  which 
grew  narrower  as  it  descended. 

I.— 23 


354 


THROUGH  ASIA 


A long  delay  ensued  inconsequence.  The  Kirghiz  twisted 
ropes  round  the  yak’s  body  and  horns,  and  made  them  fast  to 
the  other  yaks.  Then  both  animals  and  men  hauled  as  hard 
as  they  could,  and  the  heavy  beast  was  successfully  hoisted 
up.  A little  farther  on  we  nearly  had  a repetition  of  the  same 
performance;  only  the  yak  stopped  in  time  to  save  himself. 
Next  it  was  one  of  the  men  who  went  through,  and  remained 
hanging  at  his  armpits.  After  that  we  thought  it  was  about 
time  to  call  a halt,  and  make  a reconnaissance  of  the  ice, 
which  was  crossed  and  recrossed  in  every  direction  by  pit- 
falls. 

We  found  that  the  ice-cap  on  which  we  were  standing  was 
chequered  throughout  by  crevasses  running  in  all  directions, 
intersecting  each  other  and  cutting  off  our  advance  on  every 
side.  Then,  to  make  matters  worse,  we  discovered  a crevasse 
nine  to  twelve  feet  broad  and  eighteen  feet  deep,  and  at  the 
bottom  of  it  great  masses  of  snow  were  piled  up.  We  peeped 
cautiously  over  the  edge  and  saw  that  the  chasm  extended  in 
both  directions,  like  an  enormous  trench.  Northward  it  ran 
as  far  as  the  trough  of  the  Chal-tumak  glacier,  and  south- 
westward  to  the  foot  of  one  of  the  his^hest  of  the  ice-swelliims. 
To  get  over  it  or  round  it  seemed  equally  impossible;  so  we 
stopped  and  held  a council  of  war. 

The  layer  of  snow  which  sheathed  the  ice-mantle  was  ten 
inches  thick,  and  stretched  across  the  crevasses  like  a tar- 
paulin. It  was  only  across  the  broader  chasms  that  it  was 
cracked  or  had  fallen  in.  Where  the  yaks  broke  through 
they  left  gaping  holes,  which  on  our  first  looking  into  them 
appeared  to  be  pitch-dark.  But  when  our  eyes  became  used 
to  the  darkness  we  saw  that  it  was  only  a blue  glimmer,  and 
that  the  bottom  of  the  chasm  was  buried  in  snow.  The  icy 
walls  were  of  the  clearest  blue,  and  the  o^lacier-water  trick- 
ling  down  them  froze  into  rows  of  long  icicles  hanging  down 
the  abyss.  The  deepest  of  these  crevasses  was  twenty-two 
feet  three  inches  deep. 

Evening  was  coming  on,  and  I was  again  constrained  to 
beat  a retreat,  for  it  would  have  been  useless  to  wait  till  the 
next  day  and  then  try  to  find  another  passage.  It  was 


Solid  ice  impassable 


Neltvork  of  crevasses. 


THE  CHAL-TUMAK  GLACIER 


THIRD  ATTKMPT  AT  ML'S-TA(iH-ATA 


355 


plainly  impossible  to  venture  upon  an  ascent  of  Mus-tagh-ata 
from  this  side  without  special  appliances,  which  were  not  at 
our  disposal.  .Above  us  towered  the  loftiest  summit  of  the 
mountain,  and  down  its  precipitous  sides  glided  the  eternal 
ice,  streaming  in  j)art  to  the  collecting-basin  of  the  glacier; 
and  where  the  declivities  were  conve.x  and  the  ice-mantle  was 
checked  by  the  relief  of  the  underlying  ground,  it  built  itself 
up  into  veritable  terraces,  walls,  towers,  and  solid  blocks  of 
enormous  dimensions.  To  get  past  these  seemed,  so  far  as 
we  could  judge  from  the  spot  where  we  stood,  altogether 
beyond  the  reach  of  human  jxiwer. 

Our  first  two  ascents  up  beside  the  right  wall  of  the  Yam- 
bulak  glacier  had  taken  us  over  incomparably  more  favorable 
ground;  we  determined  to  try  that  route  once  more  before 
we  finally  abandoned  the  project  as  hopeless. 

We  had  only  reached  an  altitude  of  18,500  feet,  it  is  true; 
but,  as  a set-off,  the  trip  had  been  attended  with  imj)ortant 
cartographical  results.  We  had  got  a splendid  insight  into 
the  disposition  of  the  higher  regions — the  cylindrical  shape 
of  the  mountain,  and  its  covering  of  ice,  which  is  so  difficult 
of  interpretation,  and  of  the  relation  of  the  ice-mantle  to  the 
several  glaciers.  The  latter,  which  are  in  reality  colossal  ice- 
streams,  looked  like  insignificant  white  bands  from  that  alti- 
tude, of  no  magnitude  at  all  in  comparison  with  the  stu- 
pendous volume  of  the  ice-mantle. 

On  Sunday,  August  12th,  we  rested;  and,  as  was  my  wont, 
I read  the  Bible  lessons  for  the  day  during  the  quiet  fore- 
noon, and  afterwards  studied  Heim's  Gletschei'kunde.  The 
weather  was  anythin^  but  invitinor  for  an  e.xcursion.  The 

^ O O 

atmosphere  was  thick ; it  was  blowing  hard ; and  the  moun- 
tains were  wreathed  in  thick  clouds.  All  my  men  were  away 
on  leave,  having  been  invited  to  a festivity  of  some  kind  by 
Togda  Bai  Beg.  Only  A^olldash  and  I were  at  home,  enjoy- 
ing our  rest,  which  never  was  more  delightful  than  when  the 
weather  was  bad,  and  the  wind  whistled  and  howled  among 
the  rocks  outside.  I never  felt  lonely  amid  those  distant 
glaciers,  where  one  day  was,  on  the  whole,  so  like  another — 
why,  I shall  not  say,  as  I might  lay  myself  open  to  being 


356 


THROUGH  ASIA 


thought  sentimental ; but,  anyhow,  I had  not  much  time  to 
tliink  about  it,  having  more  than  enough  to  do.  The  only 
thing  which  disturbed  me  was  that  the  summer  was  passing 
so  quickly  that  I did  not  see  any  possibility  of  being  able  to 
carry  out  the  whole  of  my  programme.  The  days  were  al- 
ways too  short.  As  soon  as  I got  my  clothes  on  in  the 
mornine;,  the  first  things  was  to  read  the  meteorological  in- 
struments,  while  Islam  Bai  prepared  breakfast.  Our  fare 
never  varied,  and  consisted  of  the  following  courses:  chisslick 
(mutton  roasted  over  the  fire  on  a spit),  ash  (rice  pudding), 
and  bread,  which  we  sometimes  procured  from  the  Kirghiz 
and  sometimes  baked  ourselves;  and  the  whole  was  washed 
down  with  tea.  I soon  grew  So  tired  of  the  chisslick  that  I 
could  not  bear  the  sight  of  it,  and  lived  on  rice  and  bread. 
And  our  fare  was  to  be  precisely  the  same  for  two  years  and 
a half,  all  the  way  to  Peking.  Occasionally  I opened  a tin 
of  preserved  food ; but  the  supply  was  small,  and  the  time 
long,  and  I had  to  be  chary  of  these  delicacies.  Happily  I 
never  tired  of  rice  and  tea,  and  thrived  on  the  simple  diet. 
There  was  always  plenty  of  yak’s  milk  and  cream  for  the  tea, 
so  that  we  had  no  need  to  economize  in  these  products.  I 
had  brought  a good  supply  of  tobacco  with  me  from  Tash- 
kend,  chiefly  consisting  of  pipe  and  cigarette  tobacco,  but 
also  a few  cigars;  and  I must  confess  that  I felt  very  sorry 
for  myself  if  I had  not  a pipe  in  my  mouth  while  we  were 
about  our  glacier  work. 

Wdien  the  weather  compelled  us  to  remain  “ indoors,”  I 
always  had  plenty  of  work  to  do,  such  as  sketch-maps,  section 
or  profile  drawings,  notes,  etc.,  to  work  out.  The  inside  of 
the  yurt  was  so  comfortable  that  it  felt  quite  like  home.  In 
the  middle  of  the  “floor”  there  was  a little  fire,  fed  with 
teresken  fagots  and  yak-dung;  otherwise  the  ground  was 
covered  with  felt  rugs.  Immediately  Oj)posite  the  entrance 
was  my  bed.  d’he  packages,  generally,  were  arranged  round 
the  sides,  and  there,  too,  were  the  tins  and  boxes  of  ])ro- 
visions,  guns,  saddles,  instruments,  etc.  I had  only  two  meals 
a day:  breakfast  was  served  again  at  sup])er-time.  When  I 
got  into  bed  I generally  read,  by  the  light  of  a dying  candle, 


THIRD  ATTEMPT  AT  MUS-TAGH-ATA  357 


one  of  the  Swedish  newspapers  of  which  I have  already 
spoken.  And  then  I turned  over  and  slept  like  a log — no 
matter  how  boisterously  the  wind  blew  outside,  or  how  des- 
perately Volldash  howled  at  the  wolves  in  the  mountains — 
till  Islam  Bai  woke  me  up  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


MOONLIGHT  ON  MUS-TAGH-ATA 

I HOPE  I am  not  tiring  the  reader  with  these,  perhaps,  rather 
monotonous  descriptions  of  glaciers ; but  I have  thought  it 
proper  to  treat  this  subject  somewhat  exhaustively,  as  it  is 
virgin  soil,  and  every  step  I took  was  new.  Only  the  Yam- 
bulak  glacier  had  been  visited  before — viz.,  by  Bogdanovitch, 
in  1889;  but  I made  up  my  mind  I would  not  leave  the 
mountain  before  I had  mapped  and  examined  them  all. 
There  are  only  two  or  three  left,  and  those  I will  describe  as 
briefly  as  possible. 

We  set  apart  August  13th  for  an  expedition  to  the  Chum- 
kar-kashka  glacier,  riding  thither  up  the  side  of  the  enormous 
lateral  and  terminal  moraines  of  the  Terghen-bulak  glacier, 
and  over  very  rugged  country,  covered  sometimes  with  gravel, 
sometimes  with  sparse  vegetation.  A swelling  of  the  ground, 
starting  from  the  vicinity  of  the  former  glacier,  dipped  down 
into  the  Sarik-kol  valley,  where  it  was  continued  in  the  pass 
of  Ullug-rabat.  This  serves  as  an  important  water-shed,  in 
that  the  e:lacier-waters  from  the  Chum-kar-kashka  "lacier  flow 
to  the  left,  to  the  Little  Kara-kul,  while  the  streams  from  the 
ice-mantle  farther  south  drain  into  the  little  lake  of  Gallcho- 
tock,  and  thence,  southward,  to  the  Yarkand-daria.  Beside 
the  lake  stood  an  aul  of  six  yurts,  subject  to  the  begs  of  Tag- 
harma. 

'Phis  glacier  resembled  the  Kamper-kishlak  glacier,  and, 
like  it,  trended  towards  the  right.  'Phe  right  lateral  moraine 
was  of  relatively  small  size;  the  left  of  tolerable  dimensions. 
The  tongue  of  the  glacier  was  level  and  rounded,  with  no 
crevasses  worth  mentioning;  the  only  fissures  that  seemed  to 
be  at  all  developed  were  those  at  the  sides.  'Powards  them. 


CIIAI.-TUMAK  (il.ACIKR,  LOOKIXti  NORTH 


MOONLIGHT  ON  MUS-TAGl  l-ATA  361 


and  generally  falling  into  them,  ran  a number  of  little  streams 
of  the  clearest  glacier-water.  The  largest  was  as  much  as  35.^ 
inches  broad  and  9 deep,  and  had  a temperature  of  32  h'ahr. 
(0.02°  C).  'The  ice  along  its  channel,  in  which  the  water  ran 
noiselessly,  was  polished  and  gloriously  blue.  Otherwise  the 
whole  surface  was  excessively  soft  and  rotten,  all  the  stones 
had  sunk  deeply  into  it,  making  gaping  holes.  The  surface 
of  the  ice  resembled  a maze  of  upstanding  needles  or  leaves, 
and  we  were  able  to  walk  on  it  without  slipping,  as  easily  as 
on  snow. 

(ietting  on  to  the  glacier  was  easy  enough.  Hut  getting 
down  a<;ain  from  the  left  side  was  a verv  different  matter; 
for  the  glacier  was  very  much  swollen,  and  the  side  abrupt 
and  steep,  forming  a couple  of  high  steps  down  to  terra 
Jirma.  Wc  found  innumerable  small  pools  on  the  ice.  a 
yard  in  diameter  and  about  eight  inches  deep;  they  were 
covered  with  a thin  crust  of  ice  even  during  the  daytime, 
so  that  we  got  an  occasional  foot-bath.  Here  also  we  put 
in  measuring-rods,  to  find  out  the  rate  at  which  the  ice  was 
moving. 

On  .August  14th  we  rode  up  along  the  left  lateral  moraine 
of  the  Terghen-bulak  glacier,  and  then  out  on  to  the  moraine 
which  is  carried  on  the  back  of  the  glacier.  This  we  after- 
wards followed  down  to  its  face.  The  two  lateral  moraines 
were  very  large;  but  only  began  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
glacier’s  course,  where  they  appeared  on  the  surface  of  the  ice 
like  small  black  wedges.  Gradually,  however,  they  became 
broader  and  broader,  and  finally,  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
glacier  tongue,  formed  a stupendous  mass  of  stones  and 
debris. 

The  Terghen  - bulak  was  hard  at  work.  Rumbling  and 
rattling  sounds  were  heard  continuallv.  Large  blocks  of  ice 
were  precipitated  with  a deafening  crash  into  the  crevasses. 
New  fissures  appeared  in  all  directions;  and  swift  streams, 
abounding  with  water,  flowed  between  the  ice  and  the  lateral 
moraine.  The  latter  was  400  yards  in  breadth  at  the  lower 
part  of  the  glacier,  and  was  at  first  wonderfully  level,  and  easy 
to  travel  over.  Afterwards  it  rose  considerably  above  the 


362 


THROUGH  ASIA 


surface  of  the  ice : but  as  the  stones  lay  in  a single  thin  stra- 
tum, the  ice  projected  through  them  in  fine  needles,  “ razor- 
backs,”  and  pinnacles.  This  was  due  to  the  stones  having 
gradually  sunk  into  the  ice,  imparting  to  the  surface  a pecul- 
iar knotted  and  rugged  appearance. 

We  managed  to  get  entangled  in  a labyrinth  of  moraine- 
ridges,  pyramids,  and  ice-clefts.  After  crossing  the  moraine, 
we  went  on  over  the  middle  of  the  glacier;  and  we  had  many 
adventures  in  the  twilight,  which  quickly  turned  to  darkness. 
The  travelling  was  so  bad  that  we  preferred  to  walk,  jump- 
ing over  the  crevasses  and  streams.  The  Kirghiz  drove  the 
yaks  before  them,  and  it  was  a pleasure  to  see  with  what  agil- 
ity the  animals  scrambled  up  icy  slopes  several  feet  in  height, 
in  which  they  were  sometimes  obliged  to  scrape  out  a step 
before  they  could  get  foothold.  At  last  we  reached  the  right 
lateral  moraine.  There  we  discovered  several  small  glacier- 
lakes  on  the  ice.  Owing  to  the  sluggish  movement  of  the 
ice-masses  they  were  always  conve.x  at  their  lower  end.  The 
two  lateral  moraines  stretched  a good  way  farther  down  than 
the  middle  of  the  glacier;  for  the  ice  they  covered  was  shel- 
tered from  the  sun,  and  consequently  slower  in  melting. 

Below  the  glacier-tongue  we  had  to  pass  a succession  of 
old  terminal  moraines,  built  up  in  front  of  it  like  ramparts, 
and  broken  through  by  the  united  stream.  It  was  now  be- 
come quite  dark,  and  I was  obliged  to  follow  closely  in  the 
footsteps  of  one  of  the  Kirghiz,  in  order  to  see  where  I was 
going.  Another  man  goaded  on  the  yaks;  while  a third  was 
looking  for  one  of  the  beasts,  which  had  gone  astray  on  its 
own  account  among  the  moraines,  and  was  not  recovered  un- 
til the  following  day.  After  much  trouble  and  many  detours 
we  managed  to  make  our  way  back  to  camp  without  further 
adventure. 

One  of  the  points  in  my  summer  programme  was  to  ride 
into  the  Pamirs;  and  as  some  of  our  stores  showed  signs  of 
giving  out,  particularly  the  tea  and  sugar,  I decided  to  com- 
bine this  expedition  with  some  “shopping”  at  Fort  Pamir. 

But,  as  a journey  of  this  nature  would  probably  occupy 
a whole  month,  and  we  could  not  be  back  at  Mus-tagh-ata 


THE  TERGIIEX-IiULAK  GLACIER,  LOOKING  SOUTH 


MOONLKiHT  ON  MUS-TAGH-ATA  365 


before  the  autumn,  1 wished,  before  starting,  to  try  another 
ascent,  divided,  as  I mentioned  before,  into  two  days’ 
marches. 

Accordingly,  on  August  15th,  we  wended  our  way  back 
along  the  well-known  path  to  our  old  camp;  and  although  it 
blew  and  hailed  in  the  evening,  we  made  everything  ready 
for  a last  attempt  the  following  day. 

I'ully  equipped  for  a two  days’  march,  and  accompanied  by 
si.v  Kirghiz,  my  faithful  attendant  Islam  Bai,  and  ten  yaks,  I 
made  a fourth  attemj)t,  on  .August  i6th,  to  climb  Mus-tagh- 
ata  from  the  same  j)oint  whence  we  had  tried  it  previously, 
on  .April  iSth  and  .August  6th. 

.After  reaching  the  snow- line,  we  followed  our  old  trail, 
which  was,  at  any  rate,  a guarantee  against  accidents.  The 
jxath  could  be  seen  quite  plainly,  winding  z-ig/.ag  up  the  moun- 
tain by  the  edge  of  the  rocks  which  fenced  in  the  glacier- 
gorge  on  the  right.  The  snow,  not  being  deep,  had  melted 
away  in  large  round  patches  in  our  former  footsteps,  e.xposing 
the  bare  gravel  underneath.  Higher  up  every  footmark  was 
filled  with  bluish  green  ice,  and  highest  of  all  covered  with  a 
sprinkling  of  snow  as  thin  as  paper.  In  some  places,  indeed, 
the  track  was  partly  obliterated,  though  not  so  much  but  that 
we  could  see  it;  and  naturally  we  followed  it,  as  we  knew  by 
so  doing  we  were  safe  from  danger.  It  had  actually  never 
snowed  here  for  ten  days. 

With  Islam  Bai  and  one  of  the  Kirghiz  I reached,  at  four 
o’clock,  the  point  we  had  stopped  at  on  the  6th.  The  other 
men  followed  more  slowly,  Yehim  Bai  riding  at  their  head. 
.As  soon  as  we  were  all  together  again  we  held  a consulta- 
tion,  and  decided  to  spend  the  night  where  we  were,  as  there 
a few  small  islands  of  rock  protruded  through  the  sea  of  snow. 
The  ten  yaks  were  tied  to  loose  bowlders  of  schist,  and  the 
Kirghiz  swept  away  the  snow  as  well  as  they  could  from  the 
sharp  gravel  beneath,  and  so  cleared  a place  on  which  to  put 
up  the  yurt.  This  was  small,  and  very  rough  and  ready,  pro- 
viding sleeping-room  for  three  only.  It  had  no  tunduk  or 
smoke-vent,  as  the  poles  met  at  the  ape.x,  and  were  simply 
thrust  through  a bundle  of  rope  and  rags  to  keep  them  in 


366 


THROUGH  ASIA 


place.  Although  we  tried  to  level  the  ground  as  much  a?, 
possible  with  a spade,  the  yurt  still  stood  on  a slope ; and  we 
had  therefore  to  anchor  it  with  strong  arkhans  (camel’s-hair 
ropes)  to  a couple  of  bowlders.  A slight  breeze  sprang  up  in 
the  evening  and  blew  for  an  hour,  driving  clouds  of  fine  snow 
through  the  many  cracks  and  crevices;  so  the  Kirghiz  banked 
up  a wall  of  snow  all  round  the  tent  on  the  outside. 

At  first  everything  went  well.  We  made  a big  fire  of 
teresken  fagots  and  yak-dung,  which  warmed  us  and  thawed 
our  stiffened  joints;  but,  unhappily,  the  yurt  was  filled  with 
suffocating  smoke,  which  made  our  eyes  smart,  and  only 
found  its  way  out  leisurely  through  the  open  entrance.  The 
snow  inside  the  tent  melted,  it  is  true;  but  when  the  fire 
slackened  it  all  turned  into  a mass  of  ice. 

Meanwhile  the  Kirghiz  began  to  complain,  one  after  the 
other,  of  headache ; and  two  of  them  were  so  bad  that  they 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  turn  back,  to  which  I consented  the 
more  readily  as  they  were  manifestly  in  no  condition  for 
further  fatigue.  As  night  approached  other  symptoms  de- 
veloped, such  as  continual  singing  in  the  ears,  slight  deaf- 
ness, a quickened  pulse,  and  lower  temperature  than  is  nor- 
mal, combined  with  persistent  sleeplessness,  probably  the 
result  of  the  headache,  which  towards  morning  became  un- 
endurable. Besides  all  this  we  suffered  from  slight  attacks 
of  breathlessness.  The  Mohammedans  complained  bitterly 
the  whole  night.  Our  furs  were  oppressively  heavy.  A re- 
cumbent position  only  increased  the  breathlessness ; and  I 
could  plainly  feel  my  heart  beating  violently.  Wdien  the  tea 
was  ready  there  was  no  demand  for  it.  And  as  the  shades 
of  night  came  on,  the  depression  of  the  Kirghiz  grew  very 
evident ; for  they  were  as  little  used  as  I to  a night  spent 
more  than  twenty  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

/\  grander  camping-ground,  however,  I have  never  pitched 
tent  on  than  the  snow -clad  slopes  of  this,  one  of  the  loftiest 
mountains  in  the  world,  at  whose  foot  the  glacier  - tongues, 
streams,  and  lakes  were  already  wrapped  in  darkness,  and  on 
the  edge,  too,  of  one  of  the  most  fantastic  of  glaciers — a few 
steps  to  the  south  and  we  should  have  fallen  down  an  abyss 


a 

■ ^ * , V 

r 

I' 


1; 


STARTING  TO  ASCKM)  'I'lll':  MUS-TA(;i  I-ATA 


MOONLIGHT  ON  ml:s-tagii-a  r.\  369 

twelve  hundred  feet  deep  on  to  blue  ice  that  sparkled  as 
britrht  as  steel. 

0 

1 had  expected  a picturesque  sunset;  but  that  evening  it 
was  nothing  out  of  the  common.  "1  he  sun  sank  into  clouds 
illumined  by  a fiery  yellow  fiare,  which  glowed  for  a long 
time  after  the  sun  had  set,  and  threw  up  the  mountains  of 


TUK  RIGHT  I.ATERAl,  MORAINE  OE  THE  VAM-IIULAK.  GLACIER, 
1.00  K I N G E A ST-SO  U T II E A SI 


the  Pamirs  in  sharp  relief.  The  whole  Sarik-kol  valley  lay 
for  some  time  in  darkness,  while  the  sun  was  still  shedding 
its  last  rays  over  the  top  of  Mus  - tagh  - ata.  But  soon  even 
our  camp  was  shrouded  in  cold,  dark  shades.  The  top  of 
the  mountain  glittered  for  a moment  like  the  ruddy  crater 
of  a volcano,  and  then  the  light  of  the  day  was  swallowed  up 
in  endless  space. 

I stepped  out  to  see  the  full  moon  rise,  and  watch  it  dim 
the  stars,  which  only  just  before  had  glittered  so  brightly  in 
the  deep -blue  heavens.  It  was  not  far  to  the  boundless 
realms  of  space;  and  the  sovereign  of  the  night  rose  with  a 
splendor  so  dazzling  that  it  was  only  by  an  effort  of  will  that 
I.— 24. 


370 


THROUGH  ASIA 


I was  able  to  keep  my  eyes  upon  her.  I seemed  to  be  re- 
garding a burnished  silver  shield  suspended  in  the  sunshine, 
or  a gigantic  electric  lamp.  Serenely  yet  majestically  the 
moon  sailed  above  the  opposite  wall  of  the  glacier  defile, 
with  its  grand,  black,  perpendicular  rocks,  the  glacier  itself 
being  still  in  shadow  in  the  depths  below.  Every  now  and 
again  I heard  the  dull  crack  of  a new  crevasse  forming,  or 
the  crash  of  an  avalanche  falling  from  the  ice-mantle.  The 
moon  shed  her  silver  light  over  our  camping-ground  in  lavish 
measure,  conjuring  forth  the  most  entrancing  effects.  The 
yaks  were  thrown  up  in  dark,  sharply  defined  relief  against 
the  white  snow,  their  heads  drooping  low,  silent  as  the  stones 
they  \vere  bound  to;  every  now  and  then  they  ground  their 
teeth  against  the  fibrous  pad  of  their  upper  jaw,  or  crunched 
the  snow  under  their  feet  as  they  changed  position.  The 
tent  looked  like  some  weird  figure  of  a seated  giant;  the 
ring  at  the  top  of  the  poles  being  his  head,  and  the  frame 
hung  with  felt  mats  his  body.  The  three  Kirghiz  who  could 
not  be  accommodated  inside  the  yurt  made  a fire  between  a 
couple  of  large  rocks.  When  this  died  out  they  doubled 
themselves  up  in  a kneeling  posture  with  their  heads  on  the 
ground,  enveloped  in  their  fur  coats,  and  crowded  together 
round  the  dying  embers  like  bats  in  winter.  From  the  yurt 
and  the  yaks  long  narrow  shadows,  intensely  dark,  streamed 
out  across  the  northwest  slope,  in  sharp  contrast  with  the 
sparkling  snow-fields,  on  which  myriads  of  small  ice-crystals 
glittered  like  fire-flies.  All  round  the  tent,  where  the  snow 
had  been  trampled  down,  the  light  and  shade  alternated  in 
small  patches.  On  the  steep  slopes  in  the  northwest  the 
beautiful  curves  and  noble  outlines  of  the  vast  snow-fields, 
modelled  by  the  capricious  winds,  were  lit  up  with  a magic 
glamour.  But  I looked  in  vain  for  the  marvellous  tints  called 
forth  on  the  snow-fields  by  the  sun.  'Fhe  only  alternation 
was  of  black  and  white  — the  silver  of  the  moon,  the  gloom 
of  the  shadows,  at  once  barren  and  monotonous  like  those  on 
the  surface  of  the  moon  herself,  but  at  the  same  time  grand, 
inthralling. 

Although  the  Sarik-kol  valley  was  vividly  illumined  by 


MOOXLKilir  ON  ML’S-TAGH-ATA 


371 


the  moonshine,  it  was  not  easy  to  recognize  the  landmarks  in 
the  prevailing  gi'^y  die  gravel  detritus.  It  was  only  with 
difficulty  that  1 could  distinguish  the  darker  yeylaus  (sum- 
mer camps)  of  Kamper-  kishlak,  Yam  - bulak,  and  Su-bashi, 
their  jiasturages  watered  by  the  glacier-streams.  The  out- 
line of  Little  Kara-kul  lake  was  but  slightly  marked.  The 


THE  HIGHEST  I’.VRT  OF  THE  VAM-BULAK  GLACIER 


entire  landscape,  in  this  direction,  right  up  to  the  crests  of 
the  mountains  of  the  Pamirs,  was  an  ine.xtricable  chaos,  with- 
out any  point  to  arrest  the  eye. 

The  scenery  was  most  beautiful  in  the  quarter  of  the 
moon.  I stood  as  though  chained  to  the  spot  in  the  crack- 
ling snow,  and  could  do  nothing  but  look,  and  look,  and  ad- 
mire. A magic  scene  so  grand  that  neither  pen  nor  brush 
could  depict  it  adequately  ! The  architecture  of  Nature  was 
conceived  here  on  a bold  and  masterful  plan — the  blue  gla- 
cier sunk  between  its  black  walls  of  rock,  sheathed  in  mail  of 
ice  and  snow — the  five-headed  mountain  giant  towering  above 


372 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  low  valleys  of  the  earth.  The  rocky  wall  immediately  in 
front  of  me  lay  in  such  deep  shadow  that  I could  barely  dis- 
tinguish where  its  transparent  ice -mantle  ended  and  the 
black  mountain-wall  began.  To  the  left,  and  a few  hundred 
yards  above  me,  the  outermost  parts  of  the  glacier  were 
bathed  in  the  moonlight.  The  dark  crest  in  the  southeast 
was  alive  with  white -veiled  figures,  dancing  a perilous  elf- 
dance  past  the  giddy  precipices,  across  the  icy  surface  of  the 
glacier,  away  over  the  northern  summit  of  the  “ Ice  Moun- 
tains’ Father.”  These  light  clouds,  dancing  before  the  gentle 
southern  breeze,  formed  in  rapid  succession  concentric  rings, 
halos,  and  the  like,  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  It  re- 
c[uired  no  great  stretch  of  fancy  to  transform  the  clouds  into 
any  conceivable  shapes — ghosts  in  white  draperies  chasing 
each  other,  dancing  fairies,  sportive  ogres,  a procession  of 
the  mountain  king  with  his  sons,  the  souls  of  the  departed 
being  led  by  their  white-robed  guardian-angels  from  earth  to 
happier  places.  I seemed  to  see  the  white  camel  which 
brought  the  dervish  down  from  Mus-tagh-ata  ; the  forty  horse- 
men who  supported  Khan  Khoja  against  the  Chinese,  the 
blessed  ones  of  Janaidar,  the  city  of  perfect  happiness.  In 
spite  of  the  cold  I remained  standing  in  the  snow  fascinated, 
entranced,  following  with  mingled  wonder  and  surprise  the 
hurrying  train  of  thousands  of  fantastic  shapes. 

A dead  silence  everywhere — not  an  echo  from  the  oppo- 
site wall  of  rock.  The  attenuated  air  was  inert;  it  needed 
an  avalanche  to  make  it  vibrate.  The  breathing  of  the  yaks 
was  visible,  but  not  audible.  The  animals  stood  silent  and 
motionless,  as  if  they,  too,  were  under  the  witching  spell  of 
the  night.  The  clouds  flitted  noiselessly  by.  The  moon 
seemed  to  be  gazing  down  fi.xedly  ujjon  the  insignificant 
mortal  who  had  had  the  audacity  to  defy  one  of  the  moun- 
tain-giants of  the  world.  A curious  feeling  of  being  at  a 
vast  distance  from  the  earth  took  ])ossession  of  me.  It  was 
difficult  to  realize  that  the  four  continents  lay  actually  below 
my  feet ; and  that  a girdle  drawn  round  the  earth  at  the 
level  where  1 then  stood  would  cut  off  only  the  tops  of  a 
very  few  mountains  in  .Asia  and  .South  America.  I realized 


MOONLIGHT  ON  MUS-TA(H  I-ATA 


373 


more  forcibly  than  ever  man’s  littleness  as  compared  with 
the  inconceivable  magnitude  of  creation.  I seemed  to  be 
standing  on  the  confines  of  space — cold,  silent,  boundless. 

d'he  inside  of  the  tent  showed  the  reverse  of  the  medal. 
Islam  Hai  and  Yehim  Hai  were  sitting  in  their  fur  coats  as 
near  to  the  d\  ing  embers  as  they  could  get,  uttering  never  a 
word.  W’e  all  froze,  so  that  our  teeth  chattered  ; and,  to  add 
to  our  discomfort,  when  we  made  up  the  fire  the  tent  became 
filled  with  stifiing  smoke.  After  the  evening’s  observations 
had  been  taken,  each  man  crept  into  his  fur  coat  and  l^lank- 
ets,  the  fire  was  allowed  to  die  out,  and  the  moon  peejjcd  in- 
quisitively in  through  every  slit  and  crevice  of  the  tent. 

riie  aneroid  showed  i4;\  inches  pressure,  at  a temperature 
of  25.5°  k'ahr.  ( — 3.6°  C.).  Water  boiled  at  176.9°  (80.5°  C.) ; 
and  the  minimum  temperature  sank  to  10.4°  Fahr.  (-12°  C.). 

It  was  a lon<4,  wearisome  niijht,  which  seemed  as  if  it  would 
never  end.  No  matter  how  closely  we  drew  our  knees  uj)  to 
our  chins  or  crept  together  in  our  endeavor  to  keej)  warm,  it 
was  impossible  for  mere  j)hysical  heat  to  do  battle  against 
the  penetrating  cold  from  outside;  and  we  felt  it  the  more  in 
that  the  southeasterly  wind  increased  hour  by  hour  during 
the  night.  None  of  us  could  get  a moment’s  sleep;  at  last, 
towards  morning,  I fell  into  a sort  of  doze,  but  was  awakened 
bv  want  of  air.  The  men  moaned  and  s^roaned  as  thoimh 
they  were  being  stretched  on  the  rack;  not  so  much  on  ac- 
count of  the  cold,  however,  as  from  the  constantly  increasing 
. headache. 

At  last  the  sun  rose  upon  our  misery;  but  the  day  that 
dawned  was  anything  but  favorable.  A southwest  wind,  al- 
most violent  enough  to  be  called  a hurricane,  swept  along  the 
sides  of  the  mountain,  smothering  us  in  clouds  of  fine  pow- 
dery snow.  The  three  Kirghiz,  having  passed  the  night  in 
the  open  air,  were  half  dead  with  cold,  and  could  scarcely 
drag  themselves  into  the  yurt,  where  a large  fire  was  burning. 
We  all  felt  ill  and  depressed.  Nobody  spoke ; nobody  would 
eat  anything;  and  when  the  tea,  which  was  not  even  properly 
hot,  was  ready,  I was  so  exhausted  I could  hardly  lift  it  to 
my  lips.  The  yaks  were  still  standing  where  we  left  them 


374 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  previous  evening,  motionless  as  statues.  The  top  of  the 
mountain  was  shrouded  in  impenetrable  clouds  of  blinding 
snow;  and  to  have  continued  the  ascent  on  such  a day,  and 
over  ice  probably  seamed  with  crevasses,  in  the  teeth  of  that 
terrible  buran,  finally  perhaps  to  lose  our  bearings  in  those 
inhospitable  regions,  would  have  been  to  tempt  providence 
and  court  certain  destruction. 

1 at  once  realized  the  folly  of  setting  the  mountain  at  defi- 
ance. But  as  I wanted  to  see  what  sort  of  stuff  my  men 


OUR  CAMP  NI-:AR  VAAr-IUII„\K-P.ASHI 


were  made  of,  I ordered  them  to  prepare  for  a start.  Not 
one  of  them  uttered  a word  of  grumbling.  .All  rose  at  once, 
and  began  to  strike  camj);  but  they  were  manifestly  greatly 
relieved  when  the  order  was  countermanded. 

One  peej:)  through  the  tent-opening  made  us  glad  to  creej) 
back  again  inside.  I'here,  at  any  rate,  we  had  shelter  from 
the  wind — a wind  which  penetrated  furs,  felts,  and  felt  boots. 
I earnestly  hoped  that  by  mid-day  the  gale  would  abate,  and 
we  might  continue  our  work.  But,  on  the  contrary,  the  storm 
waxed  more  x'iolent,  and  by  twcK’c  o’clock  it  was  evident  the 


M()ONU(;HT  ON  MUS-TA(;H-ATA 


375 


day  was  lost.  1 therefore  left  the  three  Kirghiz  behind  to 
strike  the  tent  and  load  the  yaks,  while  I and  Islam  Hai  and 
Yehim  Hai,  wrajiiiing  everything  round  us  we  could  lay  our 
hands  on,  mounted  our  animals,  and  down  the  snow-drifts  we 
raced  at  a spanking  pace.  The  yaks  literally  flung  themselves 
headlong  down  the  declivities,  diving  like  otters  through  the 
snow,  and  in  spite  of  their  clumsy,  heavy  bodies  never  stum- 
bling or  slipju'ng  a step.  To  sit  in  the  saddle  was  something 
like  riding  a high  sea  in  a rocking,  ijitching  skiff.  Under 
such  circumstances  a man  who  was  not  sure  of  his  seat  was 
likely  to  have  a pretty  bad  time  of  it.  Often  I was  obliged 
to  fling  myself  backward  till  my  back  touched  the  back  of 
the  yak,  and  I had  constantly  to  adjust  my  balance  to  his  un- 
e.xpected,  but  agile  and  de.xterous,  movements. 

How  crlorious  it  was,  when  we  had  left  the  clouds  of  blind- 
ing  snow  behind  us  up  above,  and  saw  our  camping-ground 
far  down  below  our  feet,  on  a level  with  the  top  of  the  Fin- 
steraarhorn ! 

We  ate  our  dinner,  of  which  we  stood  much  in  need,  wash- 
ing it  down  with  steaming  tea.  Then,  our  vital  energies  re- 
stored, we  were  soon  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just,  each  in 
his  corner.  Hut  the  whole  of  the  following  day  we  felt  like 
convalescents  recovering  from  a long  illness. 

I had  now  attempted  the  ascent  of  Mus-tagh-ata  four  times, 
but  each  time  without  success.  I do  not  say,  however,  that 
an  ascent  to  the  summit  is  an  absolute  impossibility.  To 
reach  it  up  the  face  by  which  we  forced  a passage  on  August 
iith  is  impossible — impossible,  that  is,  without  extraordinary 
appliances,  such  as  it  would  be  absurd  to  think  of  using  in 
such  a place.  Hut  by  the  route  we  followed  on  April  i8th, 
and  again  on  August  6th  and  i6th,  there  were,  as  far  as  I 
could  make  out  with  my  field-glass,  no  insurmountable  phys- 
ical obstacles  in  the  way;  and  any  climber  possessed  of  suf- 
ficiently strong  lungs  ought  to  be  able  to  work  his  way  up  to 
the  northern  summit.  And  although  that  is  not  the  higher 
of  the  twin  peaks,  it  is  connected  with  its  loftier  brother  by  a 
slightly  depressed  col.  Between  and  below  the  two  extends 
the  neve  ox Jirn  of  the  great  Yam-bulak  glacier;  but  how  far 


376 


THROUGH  ASIA 


it  admits  of  being  traversed  is  another  question.  In  all  prob- 
ability it  is  cut  up  with  crevasses  and  covered  with  deep  snow, 
so  that  it  would  require  some  days  to  effect  a passage  across. 
The  barriers  behind  which  the  eternally  Happy  of  the  legen- 
dary city  of  Janaidar  have  intrenched  themselves  are  indeed 
insurmountable ! 

Man’s  physical  functions  are  influenced  in  no  small  degree 
by  the  rarefication  of  the  air;  and  in  order  to  ascertain  in 
what  way  this  acted,  I registered  in  different  altitudes  the 
temperature  of  the  body  and  the  pulse  in  myself  (29  years 
old),  in  Islam  Bai,  a native  of  Osh  in  Fergana  (43  years  old), 
and  in  the  Kipchak  Kirghiz  Yehim  Bai,  from  Shugnan  (40 
years  old). 

The  following  table  shows  the  results  of  my  investigations: 


Daie  and  Hoiu' 

July  28,  10  P.M. 

July  29,  10  P.M. 

August  5,  9 P.M.  , 
August  6,  12  NOON, 
August  II,  2 P.M. 

August  16,  8 P.M. 

August  17,  9 P.M. 


Tempt 

rature 

Fahr. 

C. 

Pulse 

A ititude 

f Myself 
< Islam 

. 96.8° 

■ 97-5° 

36° 

36.4° 

98  1 

92  ;■ 

13-450 

feet* 

( Yehim 

. 96° 

35-6° 

66  i 

(13-550 

feet) 

j Myself 
- Islam 

• 95-9° 

• 97-3° 

35- 5° 

36- 3° 

88  j 
92  V 

14.440 

(14,100 

feet 

feet) 

( Yehim 

• 95-5° 

35-3° 

74  ) 

^ Myself 

- Islam 
1 

. 96.8° 

• 97-5° 

36° 

36.4° 

88  1 
Ti 

14.440 

(14.100 

feet 

feet) 

( Yehim  . 

• 97-9° 

36.6° 

84  ) 

t Myself  . 

• 95-9° 

35-5° 

86  1 

17-390 

feet 

( Yehim 

, 96° 

35  6' 

82  \ 

(17,200 

feet) 

t Myself 

• 97-2° 

36.2° 

94  ) 

18,700 

feet 

Islam 

j 

. 96° 

35-6° 

86  - 
„ t 

(18,600 

feet) 

( Yenim 

. 96  6° 

35-9° 

84  \ 

1 Myself 

■ 95-6° 

35-3° 

106  I 

20,660 

feet 

- Islam 
i Yehim 

• 97-9° 

• 97-9° 

36.6° 

36.6° 

98 

1 16  ) 

(19-500 

feet) 

t Myself 

- Islam 
1 , , . 

• 97° 

■ 97-9° 

36.1° 

36.6° 

102  1 
82 

14.440 

(14,100 

feet 

feet) 

( \ ehim 

. 98" 

36.7° 

84  1 

* 'I'he  altitudes  given  in  the  paper  I sent  to  the  Royal  (Geographical 
.Society  are  those  repeated  here  in  pnrentheses.  They  are  not  ciuite  ac- 
curate, as  in  Kashgar  I had  not  the  means  of  applying  the  necessary  cor- 
rections to  my  calculations.  The  figures  which  are  not  in  parentheses 
give  the  corrected  altitudes. 


MOONLIGHT  ON  M US-TA(iH-ATA 


377 


.Although  this  table  contains  a number  of  exceptions,  it 
would  certainly  seem  to  indicate  that  the  temperature  de- 
creases, while  the  pulse  quickens,  according  as  the  altitude 
increases.  'I'here  would  also  apj^ear  to  ensue  a moment  of 
sluggishness;  for  on  descending  from  a considerable  height 
the  pulse  continued  for  some  time  to  beat  more  quickly  than 
the  normal  rate.  In  my  own  case  the  temperature  varied,  as 
a rule,  not  much  more  than  a degree,  and  my  pulse  remained 
fairl\-  regular.  'I'his  was  probably  due  to  the  fact  that  1 care- 
fully avoided  all  unnecessary  physical  exertion,  while  my  men, 
on  the  contrary,  often  walked.  The  greatest  variation  of  the 
j)ulse  was  in  the  case  of  the  Kirghiz,  Yehim  Hai.  .At  13,450 
feet  his  pulse  was  66,  and  at  20,660  feet  it  was  1 16 ; that  is  to 
say,  it  quickened  at  the  rate  of  fifty  beats  in  a little  over  7200 
feet.  The  irregularity  in  the  figures  of  the  table  is  no  doubt 
attributable  to  several  other  causes,  such  as,  for  instance, 
greater  or  less  physical  exertion,  greater  or  less  susceptibility 
to  the  rarefaction  of  the  air,  accidental  indisposition,  and  the 
like.  Nevertheless,  I always  made  a point  of  taking  these 
observations  after  a rest  of  suitable  length,  so  as  to  eliminate 
the  effects  of  breathlessness,  violent  perspiration,  and  undue 
acceleration  of  the  heart’s  action,  as  also  to  allow  of  recovery 
from  the  worst  feelings  of  fatigue. 

Our  experience  demonstrated,  on  the  one  hand,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  reach  the  summit  in  one  day,  the  horizontal 
distance  of  which  from  the  western  foot  of  the  mountain  is 
very  considerable  ; and  on  the  other  hand,  that  it  is  not 
prudent  to  sleep  at  the  height  of  20,000  feet,  because  a night 
spent  at  such  an  altitude  impairs  the  physical  strength  and 
induces  a feeling  of  lassitude  and  depression.  The  best  way 
to  reach  the  top  would,  without  doubt,  be  to  wait  for  a clear, 
calm  day  in  the  beginning  of  July,  to  break  up  camp  early 
from  a depot  situated  1 5,000  feet  up ; and  from  there  make 
the  final  ascent  in  a single  day.  Should  any  such  attempt  be 
made,  the  yaks  ought  to  be  taken  as  high  as  they  can  possibly 
be  got,  and  when  they  cannot  be  got  any  farther  the  ascent 
should  be  continued  on  foot.  Unfortunately,  I had  no  time 
to  make  a new  attempt,  partly  on  account  of  the  advanced 


37^ 


THROUGH  ASIA 


season  of  the  year,  partly  on  account  of  the  stormy  character 
of  the  autumn. 

In  any  case,  the  western  foot  of  the  mountain  is  the  best 
point  of  departure  for  making  the  ascent,  because  it  is  at  an 
altitude  of  from  12,000  to  13,000  feet  to  start  with,  and  the 
slope  on  that  side  is  less  steep.  From  the  east,  south,  and 
north  the  mountain  is  inaccessible. 

A bold  Alpine  climber  in  good  training,  and  accompanied 
by  a couple  of  hardy  and  experienced  Swiss  guides,  would 
probably  reach  a considerable  height,  and  possibly  the  north- 
ern summit  itself.  But  even  a Swiss  guide,  however  well 
trained,  would  find  himself  in  quite  an  unknown  world,  for 
the  summit  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata  is  directly  exposed  to  the  full 
force  of  the  sun’s  rays,  and  exceeds  the  highest  mountain  in 
Europe  by  fully  9000  feet. 

Farewell,  then.  Father  of  the  Ice  Mountains!  Thou  didst 
suffer  me  to  kneel  before  thy  snow-white  footstool;  but  didst 
not  permit  me  to  behold  thy  august  presence  face  to  face  and 
eye  to  eye.  Farewell,  thou  mighty  sovereign  of  the  giants 
of  the  Pamirs,  at  once  a corner-stone  of  the  earth’s  loftiest 
mountain-range  and  the  topmost  pinnacle  of  the  Roof  of  the 
World!  At  thy  knees  thy  mighty  children,  the  Kwen-lun, 
Kara-korum,  Hindu-kush,  and  Tian-shan,  kneel  together  hand 
in  hand.  Farewell,  again,  thou  beauty-spot  on  the  venerable 
face  of  our  Mother  Earth,  whose  cheek  is  furrowed  with  such 
deep  and  unfathomable  wrinkles  around  thee!  In  my  mem- 
ory I still  hear  the  rippling  of  thy  mountain-brooks,  bringing 
strange  messages  from  those  sublime  regions  which  no  mortal 
foot  hath  ever  trod.  Like  the  holy  Dalailama,  thou  permittest 
none  but  thy  chosen  children  to  approach  the  sacred  precincts 
of  thy  temple.  Shed,  then,  thy  saving  light  as  from  a lofty 
beacon-tower  across  the  desert  ocean  which  stretches  to  a 
boundless  distance  from  thy  eastern  flank.  Let  the  gleam  of 
thy  silver  brow  scatter  the  dust-haze  of  the  desert  hurricane — 
let  the  cool,  refreshing  airs  of  thy  palace  of  eternal  snows  be 
wafted  towards  the  weary  traveller  toiling  through  the  burn- 
ing heats  of  sun  and  sand — let  the  life-giving  streams  which 
flow  from  thy  mighty  heart  ahound  in  strength  for  thousands 


MOONLIGHT  ON  MUS-TAGH-ATA 


379 


of  years  to  come,  and  for  thousands  of  years  to  come  still 
maintain  their  fight  against  the  all-devouring,  all-devastating 
desert  sands ! .Among  the  lights  of  .Asia  thou  art,  and 
always  wilt  be,  one  of  the  brightest,  as  thou  art  among  the 
mountains  of  the  earth  one  of  the  noblest,  one  of  the  most 
sublime  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


TO  FORT  PAMIR  AND  PACK 

On  August  1 8th  I paid  a last  visit  to  the  Yam-bulak  gla- 
cier, to  take  out  the  sticks  which  I put  in  on  August  3d  for 
the  purpose  of  measuring  at  what  rate  the  glacier  moved. 
The  advance  during  the  interval  of  fifteen  days  was  scarcely 
perceptible.  There  was,  however,  a slight  movement,  most 
marked  towards  the  median  line  of  the  glacier,  where  it 
amounted  to  close  upon  one  foot  a day.  I made  an  in- 
teresting observation  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  lateral  mo- 
raine. The  glacier  there  spread  out,  giving  rise  to  a back 
current  near  the  edge  of  the  ice,  resembling  in  its  origin 
and  effects  the  backwater  at  the  side  of  a river,  although  the 
time  required  for  the  movement  to  become  perceptible  must, 
in  comparison  with  its  extent,  be  very  long  indeed.  The  ice, 
which  might  be  expected  to  pile  itself  up  above  the  eddy,  is 
easily  kept  down  by  the  agents  of  dissolution. 

rhe  appearance  of  the  ice  had  very  much  changed  in  the 
interval.  On  the  occasion  of  our  first  visit  it  was  covered 
with  snow  and  hail.  Now,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  fully  ex- 
posed, with  edges  as  sharp  as  knives,  while  all  the  stones  had 
sunk  into  deep  holes  ; and  the  ice  was,  as  a rule,  slippery 
and  dangerous  to  walk  upon. 

On  our  return  we  observed  a phenomenon  which  we  had 
not  remarked  before.  The  pool  beside  the  right  lateral  mo- 
raine was  situated  in  a fissure,  caused  by  an  earthquake,  which 
stretched  all  the  way  from  the  tongue  of  the  great  Kamper- 
kishlak  glacier  to  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  scene  of  our 
measurements.  For  the  most  part  it  was  single,  but  occasional- 
ly double,  resembling  a trench  or  dike,  about  sixteen  feet  deej) 
and  fifty  to  seventy  feet  across,  with  the  bottom  encumbered 


I'O  I'ORT  PAMIR  AND  BACK 


with  gravel,  sand,  and  earth,  which  had  gradually  fallen  into 
it.  Both  edges  were  continuous  and  maintained  the  same 
uniform  level.  Now  the  moraine  showed  a decided  subsid- 
ence at  the  jioint  where  the  earthquake  fissure  penetrated 
beneath  it.  The  Kirghiz  told  me  that  the  fissure  was  caused 
bv  a violent  earthquake  eighteen  years  ago  (/>.,  1876),  when 
\'akub  lieg  was  still  alive.  It  affected  Tagharma,  'I'lir-bu- 
lung,  and  the  whole  of  the  west  side  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata,  but 
was  not  felt  at  either  Su-bashi  or  Kara-tash-davan.  The  lat- 
eral moraine  had  thus  undergone  no  change  for  fully  eigh- 
teen years.  The  fact  that  the  earthquake  was  not  felt  at  .Su- 
bashi,  only  two  hours  distant,  shows  that  it  was  probably  a 
tectonic  or  fundamental  shock  of  jnirely  local  extent.  How 
far  it  affected  the  glaciers,  the  Kirghiz  were  unable  to  tell 
me.  On  the  surface  of  the  glacier  itself  there  was  naturally 
no  trace  of  any  subsidence,  since  any  rift  that  might  be  made 
would  necessarily  soon  be  filled  up.  It  would,  however,  have 
furnished  an  ideal  oj)portunity  for  the  investigation  of  the 
thickness  of  the  ice  and  its  inner  structure.  Earthquakes 
are  not  relatively  frequent  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata; 
slight  shocks  only  being  felt  from  every  third  to  every  fifth 
year. 

W hen  I left  Kashgar  in  June  it  was  my  intention  to  re- 
main only  two  months  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Mus-tagh- 
ata.  But  I had  rather  under-calculated  the  time  I should  re- 
quire, so  that,  when  the  two  months  expired,  only  half  my 
work  was  done,  and  I had  no  provisions  left.  I was  com- 
pelled, therefore,  to  travel  to  Fort  Pamir  to  procure  a fresh 
supply.  As,  however,  I knew  that  the  Chinese  were  watch- 
ing me,  and  almost  looked  upon  me  as  a spy,  and  as  I did 
not  wish  to  fan  their  suspicions  unnecessarily,  I resolved  to 
cross  the  frontier  during  the  night  througn  an  unguarded 
pass,  and  return  subsequently  in  the  same  manner,  without 
their  having  any  idea  of  the  excursion.  I only  took  with  me 
two  of  the  Kirghiz  and  my  ever  faithful  Islam  Bai;  the  rest 
were  dismissed.  Then,  with  the  assistance  of  Togdasin  Beg, 
we  spread  abroad  the  report  that  I had  gone  to  Kara-korum, 
on  the  southern  flank  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata. 

O 


382 


THROUGH  ASIA 


On  the  evening  of  August  19th  I carried  all  my  baggage 
and  my  scientific  collections  to  the  tent  of  one  of  my  Kirghiz 
friends,  old  Yehim  Bai,  who  hid  them  safely  behind  his  car- 
pets and  felts.  After  our  return  from  Fort  Pamir  we  learned 
that  the  Chinese,  who  were  greatly  astonished  at  m3’  disap- 
pearance, had  instituted  a search  after  me.  Hereupon  Yehim 
Bai  thought  it  advisable  to  transfer  my  baggage  to  a safer 
hiding-place,  and  concealed  it  under  an  enormous  bowlder 
lying  in  front  of  the  Kamper  - kishlak  glacier,  at  the  same 
time  taking  the  precaution  to  wrap  the  boxes  in  felts  to  pro- 
tect them  from  the  weather. 

We  made  our  preparations  for  the  journey  in  Yehim  Bai’s 
tent.  We  had  four  capital  horses.  Having  packed  up  car- 
pets, felts,  instruments,  and  other  necessary  equipments,  and 
prepared  provisions  for  three  days,  for  we  were  going  to  ride 
through  a wholl}'  uninhabited  district — a distance  of  about 
eighty  miles  — we  sat  a couple  of  hours  round  the  fire,  talk- 
ing and  drinking  tea,  and  getting  a good  meal  of  the  old,  in- 
evitable fare,  mutton  and  yak’s  cream.  But  as  soon  as  the 
moon  broke  through  the  driving  clouds  sufficiently  to  light 
up  the  silent  country,  we  lashed  the  loads  on  the  men’s 
horses  ; and,  at  eleven  o’clock  of  a windy  night,  rode,  well 
wrapped  in  furs,  in  single  file,  down  between  the  ancient 
moraines  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata. 

A ride  of  two  or  three  hours  brought  us  to  the  Sarik-kol 
valley;  thence  our  path  wound  up  the  opjDosite  side,  and 
through  the  Mus-kurau  glen  to  the  pass  of  the  same  name 
situated  in  the  Sarik-kol  chain,  the  boundary  mountains  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Pamir  plateau.  In  this  glen  was  the 
critical  point  of  the  journey — namel}9  a Chinese  karaol  (watch- 
house),  or  sentry  aul  (camp),  placed  there  for  the  purpose  of 
guarding  the  frontier  next  the  Russian  possessions  in  the 
Pamirs.  We  rode  past  it  in  deej)  silence  and  at  a slow  pace, 
so  near,  indeed,  that  the  Kirghiz  with  their  eagle  eyes  were 
able  to  see  the  tents.  But  none  of  the  guard  challenged  us; 
the  doss  even  did  not  bark,  although  we  had  Yolldash  with 
us.  My  men  were  terribly  alarmed,  and  their  spirits  only  re- 
vived after  we  left  the  aul  behind  us;  for  they  knew  that,  if 


TO  FORT  IFAMIR  AND  HACK 


they  were  caught,  two  or  three  hundred  lashes  on  the  bare 
back  certainly  awaited  them. 

.At  four  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  .August  20th  we  safely 
reached  the  Mus-kurau  pass.  There  1 took  some  scientific 
observations  ; and  there,  too,  we  were  overtaken  by  a furious 


.\X  OLD  KIRGHIZ  FROM  S.VRIK-KOL 

snow-storm.  From  that  point  the  surface  gradually  inclined 
towards  the  west.  We  rode  through  the  broad  valley  of 
Nagara-kum  (the  Drum-Sand),  the  bottom  of  which  was  cov- 
ered with  fine  yellow  drift-sand ; while  over  the  slopes  on 
either  side  it  assumed  the  form  of  well-shaped  dunes.  The 
sand  was  brought  thither  by  the  west  and  southwest  winds, 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  winds  which  nearly  always  prevail  in  the  Pamirs.  But 
as  they  are  unable  to  surmount  the  plateau-rim  of  the  Sarik- 
kol  Mountains,  they  drop  their  sand  in  the  valley  and  heap 
it  up  along  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  As  the  tract  is  en- 
tirely destitute  of  water,  it  is  uninhabited  in  summer;  but 
the  Kirghiz  visit  it  during  those  winters  in  which  there  is  a 
sufficient  fall  of  snow  to  provide  them  with  water.  We  only 
saw  water  at  one  spot,  Sarik-bulak  (the  Yellow  Spring),  where 
a tiny  spring  bubbled  up  out  of  the  ground,  affording  nour- 
ishment to  verdure  of  a fairly  good  quality.  In  that  place 
we  rested  from  lo  a.m.  to  i p.m. 

Towards  evening  we  emerged  upon  the  broad  plains  of 
Kosh-aghil,  plains  as  hard  and  as  level  as  a pavement.  The 
vegetation  consisted  of  nothing  but  scattered  teresken  bush- 
es, which  in  the  gleam  of  the  setting  sun  cast  their  shadows 
a long  way  across  the  ground.  Our  route  led  through  the 
characteristic  landscape  of  the  Pamirs  — broad,  level,  water- 
less valleys,  bounded  by  low  mountain-chains,  rounded  and 
greatly  worn. 

We  reached  the  Murghab  at  dusk,  now  in  the  season  of 
the  summer  floods  swollen  to  a majestic  river.  We  encamped 
on  a little  patch  of  meadow  on  the  right  bank,  and  spent  the 
night  in  the  open  air. 

One  word  more  about  my  faithful  Yolldash.  He  accom- 
panied me  again  on  this  journey  across  the  Pamirs.  The 
hardest  day’s  travel  never  drew  from  him  so  much  as  a growl. 
At  night  he  kept  the  most  vigilant  watch  over  our  camp,  and 
was  always  in  excellent  spirits.  Nor  could  he  be  counted 
among  the  cowardly  ones  of  the  earth.  Whenever  we  ap- 
proached an  aul,  off  he  would  dash  ahead  like  a flash  of  light- 
ning, and  pick  a quarrel  with  the  dogs  of  the  place.  Although 
he  set  on  to  right  and  left  with  a determination  worthy  of  all 
j)raise,  he  was,  of  course,  always  beaten  ; yet  he  never  dis- 
played the  slightest  fear,  even  when  outnumbered  by  half  a 
score.  Now,  however,  hax'ing  to  foot  it  all  the  way  to  h'ort 
Pamir,  he  galled  his  liind-])aws.  'Hie  men  therefore  made 
him  a pair  of  skin  boots,  which  gave  him  a ridiculous  like- 
ness to  Puss  in  Boots.  It  was  irresistibly  comical  tt)  see  the 


TO  FORT  FAMIR  AND  HACK 


extravagant  care  with  which  he  first  made  trial  of  his  won- 
derful foot-gear.  At  the  outset  he  only  used  his  fore  legs, 
and  dragged  himself  along  in  a highly  ungraceful  sitting 
posture;  then  he  tried  running  on  three  legs,  lifting  each 
hind  leg  in  turn  ; but  finally  he  found  out  that  the  boots 
were  practical,  and  were  meant  to  protect  his  paws  from 
further  hurt. 

The  following  morning  we  crossed  over  to  the  other  side 

O O 

of  the  .Murghab,  and  continued  down  its  left  bank  — i.e., 
westward.  At  length,  after  we  had  passed  a succession  of 
spurs  which  projected  into  the  valley  en  echelon,  like  the  side 
scenes  of  a theatre,  the  valley  suddenly  opened  out  before  us 
into  the  expansion  through  which  it  receives  its  tributary,  the 
Ak-baital,  and  in  which  k'ort  Pamir  is  situated.  W’e  rode 
hard  all  day.  About  five  o’clock  we  perceived  the  light  blue 
smoke  slowly  curling  up  against  the  darker  background  of 
the  mountains,  and  an  hour  later  rode  into  the  court-yard  of 
the  fort. 

.All  was  silent  and  still ; there  were  no  officers  about.  Hut 
a Cossack  sentry  challenged,  “Who  goes  there  I made 
myself  at  home  in  the  solitary  fortress,  and  soon  discovered 
the  reason  of  its  being  deserted.  It  appeared  that  a young 
lieutenant  from  St.  Petersburg  had  been  a guest  at  the  fort 
since  the  previous  day,  and  in  his  honor  a picnic  was  being 
given  bv  the  officers  in  the  neighborhood.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  whole  party  returned,  my  old  friend.  Captain  Sait- 
seff,  at  their  head.  The  younger  officers  who  had  been  under 
him  the  previous  winter  were  now  in  the  field,  engaged  in 
active  operations  under  General  Yonnoff  against  the  Afghans 
in  Shugnan  ; and  their  places  had  been  filled  by  others,  who 
were  to  spend  the  winter  at  the  fort  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Skersky,  an  officer  of  the  general  staff. 

Two  other  changes  had  been  made  since  my  former  visit. 
The  lonely  fort,  which  one  of  my  friends  in  Fergana  called  a 
paradise,  because  there  were  no  women  within  its  walls,  was 
now  honored  with  the  presence  of  the  young  wife  of  the  new 
commandant,  Madame  Skersky.  German  by  birth,  and  a lady 
of  an  exceptionally  sweet  and  amiable  disposition,  she  did  the 
I.— 25 


386 


THROUGH  ASIA 


honors  at  table  with  exquisite  charm.  Tastes,  as  we  know, 
differ;  but  in  my  opinion  the  fort  was  now  infinitely  more 
like  paradise  than  it  had  been  before.  Threadbare  tunics  and 
dusty  boots  had  given  place  to  a more  becoming  exterior, 
while  linen  cuffs,  blacking,  and  the  little  arts  of  the  toilet- 
table  afforded  evidence  of  their  existence  ; everything,  in  fact, 
bore  witness  to  the  ennobling  presence  of  woman. 

In  addition,  the  fort  had  also  started  a band  of  twelve  men, 
which  played  during  dinner  every  day  outside  the  windows  of 
the  mess-room.  The  mess-room  itself  had  been  rechristened. 
It  now  bore  the  name  of  vayenny  sobj'anye,  or  “ the  military 
club,”  and  its  walls  were  papered  with  maps  of  the  Pamirs 
and  plans  of  the  fort. 

Fort  Pamir  is  overlooked  on  the  south  by  the  latitudinal 
chain  of  mountains  which  divides  the  valley  of  the  Murghab 
from  the  Alichur  Pamirs,  known  as  the  Bazar-darah.  Just 
at  this  point  it  makes  a bend  to  the  left,  forcing  the  Murghab 
close  in  under  the  rocks,  so  that  the  river  almost  describes  a 
semicircle,  and  in  places  sweeps  along  with  great  velocity. 

The  Cossacks  had  rigged  up  a boat  by  stretching  oiled 
canvas  over  a light  frame-work  ; and  with  it  they  used  to  lay 
their  nets  and  cross  the  river  to  the  fishing-grounds  under 
the  opposite  bank.  One  day  Captain  Saitseff  and  I tried  our 
luck  in  this  improvised  craft.  We  embarked  a good  way  up 
the  river,  each  taking  an  oar;  then  we  let  the  boat  drift  with 
the  current  round  the  elbow,  taking  care  to  steer  clear  of  some 
treacherous  sand-banks  near  the  corner.  In  certain  places, 
where  the  water  was  forced  through  deep,  narrow  channels, 
the  boat  sped  along  at  a giddy  pace  close  to  the  cliffs.  The 
panorama  changed  continually,  and,  owing  to  the  numerous 
short  twists  and  turns  of  the  river,  gave  rise  to  the  most 
curious  optical  illusions.  Although  the  boat  kept  gliding 
onward  all  the  time,  the  horizon  seemed  to  keep  moving- 
backward  and  forward,  so  that  while  at  one  moment  we  had 
the  opening  of  the  Ak-baital  valley  on  the  one  side  of  us 
and  at  another  straight  in  front  of  us,  at  yet  another  time  we 
had  to  look  well  about  us  before  we  could  perceive  it  at  all. 
One  moment  the  fort  was  on  our  right;  shortly  afterwards  it 


TO  TORT  PAMIR  ANT)  HACK 


3^7 


had  moved  over  to  the  left,  until  we  were  perfectly  bewildered. 

I'he  lapijing  of  the  water  against  the  banks  was  barely  audi- 
ble, for  the  main  current  glided  like  oil  along  its  bed,  and  the 
boat  was  carried  on  like  an  unresisting  nutshell  by  the  irre- 
sistible flood.  Once  or  twice  the  frail  craft  scraped  against 
the  stones  at  the  bottom,  but  no  harm  came  of  it,  and  after 
an  hour's  exciting  work  we  landed,  as  wet  as  a coujile  of 
water-spaniels,  in  still  water,  a good  way  down  the  river,  at  a 
spot  where  it  again  widened  out  for  a short  distance. 

On  the  other  side  of  Shah-jan  (the  King’s  Soul),  the  place 
where  the  first  Russian  fort  was  erected  a few  years  ago,  2. I 
miles  below  the  jjresent  fortress,  the  valley  of  the  Murghab 
contracts ; at  the  same  time  the  river  becomes  narrower 
and  deeper,  and  increases  in  velocity.  .\t  that  j)oint  stood  a 
Kirghiz  aul  of  six  uys  (tents),  and  there  was  the  last  safe  ford, 
a passage  that  is  always  used  by  those  going  to  the  Western 
Pamirs. 

W’hen,  on  August  27th,  I started  for  Veshil-kul,  I was 
escorted  the  whole  of  the  first  day’s  march  (twenty -five 
miles)  by  Captain  Saitseff  and  a young  lieutenant.  The 
Kirghiz  misled  us  at  Shah-jan  by  advising  us  to  cross  the 
river  6.f  miles  farther  on,  because,  they  said,  the  road  on  the 
right  bank  was  the  better,  and  the  flood  had  gone  down. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  spot  which  they  indicated  as  a safe 
ford,  one  of  the  Kirghiz  was  sent  across  first  to  show  the  way. 
Hut  the  river  was  four  feet  deep  in  the  middle,  and  the  man’s 
horse  lost  its  footing  and  was  carried  down  stream.  Fortu- 
nately it  managed  to  touch  the  bottom  again,  and  so  reached 
the  other  side,  but  its  rider  was  dripping  wet  up  to  the  waist. 
After  one  or  two  more  Kirghiz  had  ridden  over,  Captain  Sait- 
seff set  his  horse  at  the  stream,  and  reached  the  opposite  side 
in  safety,  but  so  wet  that  he  deemed  it  prudent  to  take  off  his 
boots,  which  were  full  of  water,  and  to  strip  wellnigh  to  the 
skin,  and  spread  out  his  clothes  to  dry  on  a hill-side  facing  the 
sun.  As  I had  no  inordinate  desire  for  a bath,  I waited  until 
the  three  camels  came  up,  which  were  carrying  our  baggage, 
and,  climbing  on  to  the  tallest  of  them,  managed  to  reach  the 
opposite  bank  without  getting  a stitch  wet. 


THROUGH  ASIA 


388 

As  soon  as  Captain  Saitseff’s  clothes  were  dry  we  con- 
tinued our  journey,  reaching  the  entrance  to  the  valley  of 
Ak-alkhar  at  dusk.  There  we  encamped  in  the  shelter  of  a 
huge  isolated  rock  that  stuck  up  out  of  the  ground.  Captain 
Saitseff  had  brought  a good  dinner  with  him,  including  a 


couple  of  bottles  of  claret;  and  by  the  light  of  colored  Chi- 
nese lanterns  and  a blazing  camp-fire  we  made  a right  good 
feast.  Speeches  were  made  on  various  topics,  songs  were 
sung  without  end,  but  to  very  halting  melodics;  in  fact,  the 
echoes  of  entire  operas  struck  against  the  cliff  walls,  but,  I 
must  confess,  in  such  inharmonious  tones  that  had  an  oper- 


ro  FORT  PAMIR  AND  HACK 


3^9 


atic  singer  heard  us  he  would  liave  been  tempted  to  use  his 
legs  rather  than  his  voiee.  I lajjpily  our  only  audience  were 
the  Kirghiz,  who  stood  round  us  in  a ring,  looking  very 
much  astonished,  aj)j)arently  under  the  impression  that  we 
had  taken  leave  of  our  senses  on  the  way.  Midnight  was 
approaching  when  our  musical  entertainment  came  to  an 
end,  and  we  were  overcome  by  the  sound  sleep  which  was 
invariably  ours. 

d'he  next  day  we  halted  at  .\k-alkhar,  for  there  Captain 
Saitseff  had  sowed  some  barley  and  wheat,  turnips  and  rad- 
ishes; and  all  had  succeeded  beyond  expectation,  although  it 
was  at  an  altitude  of  i i,ooo  feet.  During  the  course  of  the 
dav  I mapped  jjart  of  the  river  towards  the  west,  and  after- 
wards we  spent  another  jolly  evening  together,  parting  early 
on  the  morning  of  the  29th,  the  Russians  to  return  to  Fort 
Pamir,  and  I and  my  men  to  continue  our  ride  uj)  the  valley 
of  .Vk-alkhar. 

In  two  days  marches  we  crossed  the  Hazar-darah  chain 
and  discovered  a new  pass  (15,970  feet),  to  which  I gave  the 
name  of  Saitseff.  It  was  only  of  secondary  importance,  as 
it  was  difficult  to  cross,  the  incline  being  very  steep  and  the 
declivities  covered  with  fine  schistose  gravel,  in  which  the 
horses  had  hard  work  to  keep  their  footing.  A barely 
visible  path  showed  that  the  sole  frecpienters  of  this  pass 
were  kiyick,  tekkes,  and  arkharis — that  is  to  say,  wild  goats 
and  wild  sheep. 

On  the  southern  side  of  the  pass  the  country  dipped  grad- 
ually down  through  the  defile  of  Mus-yilga  to  the  broad  val- 
ley of  Alichur,  inhabited  by  the  population  of  120  Kirghiz 
Liys  (tents).  This  valle)',  in  the  longitude  of  Ak-alkhar,  lay 
about  2000  feet  higher  than  the  valley  of  the  Murghab.  Two 
more  days  brought  us  to  Sumeh,at  the  east  end  of  the  Yeshil- 
kul  (the  Green  Lake),'  on  the  way  we  passed  Ak-balik  (the 
White  Fish),  or,  as  the  place  is  also  called,  Balik-masar  (the 
Shrine  of  the  Fish).  Several  springs  gushed  out  of  the 
ground  on  the  northern  side  of  the  valley,  and  converged 
upon  a small  pool  about  ten  feet  deep  and  twenty  yards  or 
so  in  diameter.  The  water  was  a deep  blue  color,  constantly 


390 


THROUGH  ASIA 


varying  its  tints,  but  always  crystal  clear,  and  with  a tempera- 
ture of  39.2°  Fahr.  (4°  C.).  Up  and  down  it  swam  a number 
of  fat  fish,  about  a foot  long  and  with  black  backs.  From 
the  culinary  point  of  view  they  looked  particularly  tempting; 
we  therefore  made  a long  halt  beside  the  pool  for  the  pur- 
pose of  catching  some  of  them.  We  had  neither  rod  nor 
tackle.  Still,  what  mattered  that  ? With  the  help  of  some 
pack-thread  and  the  hook  of  a Swedish  watch-chain,  and  a 
piece  of  mutton  for  a bait,  we  soon  hauled  up  three  “beau- 
ties.” After  we  reached  camp  the  men  fried  them  in  yak 
butter  for  supper,  and  anticipated  a splendid  dish.  But,  alas! 
our  hopes  were  dashed ; the  fish  were  uneatable,  having  a 
rank,  disagreeable  flavor.  Yolldash,  however,  relished  them  ; 
though  he  apparently  regretted  his  excesses  later  on,  to  judge 
by  the  dismal  howling  he  kept  up  all  night. 

On  the  left  bank  of  the  Alichur  river  we  rode  past  a 
simple  grave,  surrounded  by  a stone  wall.  It  was  the  burial- 
place  of  seven  Afghan  soldiers,  who  fell  two  years  previously 
in  a skirmish  with  the  Russians.  Some  rags  of  felt  and  the 
poles  of  the  tent  they  had  lived  in  still  remained.  We  took 
some  of  the  latter  to  make  our  fire  of,  in  spite  of  Yehim  Bai’s 
protests  that  it  was  sacrilege  to  plunder  a grave. 

The  night  of  September  2d  we  spent  at  the  rabat  (rest- 
house)  of  Sumeh,  which  consisted  of  three  gumbez  (hive- 
shaped towers),  built  by  Abdullah  Khan  of  Bokhara;  and  on 
the  following  morning  we  visited  a hot  sulphurous  spring 
which  issued  from  the  ground  in  the  neighborhood,  with  a 
temperature  of  141.1°  BAhr.  (60.6°  C).  In  the  same  place  we 
also  inspected  a cube-shaped  Chinese  tamga-tash  (seal-stone) 
or  inscribed  stone,  showing  that  there  was  a time  when  the 
Chinese  considered  themselves  masters  of  the  Pamirs.  On 
its  upper  face  there  was  a hollow  space,  in  which  a stone 
tablet  bearing  an  inscription  was  originally  inserted;  but  it 
has  been  removed  to  St.  Petersburg. 

We  then  continued  our  way  westward  along  the  northern 
shore  of  the  Yeshil-kul,  over  the  vast  gravel  slopes  which 
have  rolled  down  from  the  disintegrated  hills  above  and 
stretch  down  to  the  lake  at  an  angle  of  thirty-three  degrees. 


TO  TORT  PAMIR  AND  HACK 


39' 


At  this  point  the  Alichur  valley  became  so  contracted  that 
the  lake  was  barely  two  miles  across,  while  its  length  was  as 
much  as  fourteen.  The  lake  was  undoubtedly  very  deep,  for 
the  water  was  a greenish  blue  color,  and  it  had  a temperature 
of  64.4°  P'ahr.  ( i8’ C.),  though  it  was  not  so  limpid  as  the 
w’ater  of  the  Little  Kara-kul.  Its  altitude  was  12,460  feet. 

Several  side-valleys,  with  streams  flowing  through  them, 
reached  the  lake  along  both  shores.  The  largest  was  known 
as  Chong-marjanay : and  although  its  volume,  at  the  time  we 
saw  it,  was  not  more  than  105  cubic  feet  in  the  .second,  it  had 
nevertheless  formed  a delta  that  projected  some  distance  into 
the  lake. 

We  halted  on  a small  sj)it  of  low-lying  land,  Kamper-chick, 
close  by  the  side  of  the  lake,  spreading  out  our  felt  carpets 
on  the  ground  in  a thick  clumj)  of  bushes,  which  were  already 
dry  and  bare  of  leaves.  Having  made  tea  and  eaten  a very 
simple  supper,  I jotted  down  the  e.\j)eriences  of  the  day  in 
my  diary  by  the  light  of  an  enormous  fire,  which  lighted  up 
the  whole  neighborhood;  then,  having  wrapped  myself  in  my 
furs,  1 fell  asleep  to  the  monotonous  murmur  of  the  waves. 

On  September  3d  and  4th  we  explored  the  western  end  of 
the  Yeshil-kul,  a particularly  interesting  spot.  The  south 
shore  was  overhung  by  a branch  of  the  vast  range  of  moun- 
tains which  divides  the  Yeshil-kul  from  the  country  of  Shug- 
nan,  and  which  bears  in  that  region  the  common  name  of 
Kara-korum  (the  Black  Stony  Tract).  Its  summit,  near  the 
western  end  of  the  lake,  where  the  river  Ghunt  issued,  was 
covered  with  snow;  and  we  could  even  discern  a rudimentary 
glacier,  which  in  former  times  must  have  been  very  much 
larger,  and,  together  with  its  moraines,  must  have  completely 
shut  in  the  valley  in  that  quarter.  The  Yeshil-kul  was  thus 
formed  in  the  same  way  as  the  Little  Kara-kul.  That  is  to 
say,  it  is  the  reservoir  or  collecting  basin  of  the  drainage  of 
the  Alichur  valley,  which  afterwards  passes  out  of  it  across, 
if  I may  so  say,  the  moraine  threshold;  then,  under  the  name 
of  the  Ghunt,  it  cuts  its  way  through  a narrow  glen,  steep 
and  wild,  and  finally  joins  the  river  Panj.  The  moraine  was 
composed  of  huge  blocks  of  granite,  and  was  excessively  diffi- 


392 


THROUGH  ASIA 


cult  to  get  across.  I was  at  first  astonished  to  find  that  the 
river  Ghunt,  which  has  the  name  of  being  as  large  as  the 
Murghab,  was  but  an  inconsiderable  stream,  with  a volume 
of  scarcely  more  than  280  cubic  feet  of  water  in  the  second. 
But  the  mystery  was  soon  explained : the  greater  portion  of 
the  current  found  its  way  underneath  the  moraine,  where  it 
was  plainly  audible  as  it  hurtled  along. 

We  returned  to  Fort  Pamir  through  the  Alichur  Pamirs 
and  over  the  pass  of  Naisa-tash.  There  the  report  reached 


YESIIII.-KUL,  LOOKING  SOUTHEAST  KRO.M  ITS  WESTERN  END 

US  that  Togdasin  Beg  had  been  punished  with  three  hundred 
lashes  on  the  bare  back  for  not  having  informed  Jan  Darin 
that  I had  crossed  the  frontier,  and  that  the  beg  was  lying 
half  dead  in  his  tent.  /\s  I was  afraid  that  the  Chinese  might 
get  hold  of  my  jDossessions  and  the  collections  which  I had 
left  behind,  we  took  cordial  leave  of  the  hospitable  Russians 
and  hurried  back  to  the  Mus-tagh-ata,  via  the  Sarik-kol  pass 
(14,540  feet).  /Yrriving  there  unobserved  on  September  i6th, 
we  were  met  by  the  information  that,  after  all,  the  rejiort 
was  false.  Togdasin  Beg  was  safe  and  sound,  and  came 
to  see  me  that  very  evening;  nor  had  the  Chinese  discov- 


TO  FORT  FAMIR  AND  HACK 


393 


ereci  my  possessions,  although  they  ransacked  everything  be- 
longing to  the  Kirghiz  who  had  been  in  my  employ.  The 
things  were  still  safe  in  their  hiding-place  under  the  rocks. 

While  we  were  away  winter  had  advanced  with  giant 
strides.  The  snows  had  crept  farther  down  the  mountains, 
and  the  whole  of  the  Sarik-kol  chain  was  covered  with  a 
thin  white  veil.  The  streams  had  shrunk  into  rivulets,  and 
Nature  seemed  to  be  fully  prepared  for  her  long  winter 


ISL.VM  15AI  .VXD  TWO  KIRGHIZ  WITH  THE  ri,.\X'E-rABLE 
OX'  THE  CHU.M-K\R-KASHKA  GLACIER 

sleep.  The  Mus-tagh-ata  towered  above  us,  icy- cold  and 
uninviting,  so  that  we  had  not  the  slightest  wish  to  molest 

O O 

him  further. 

Instead  of  making  any  further  attempt  to  storm  the  citadel 
of  the  Father  of  the  Ice  Mountains,  we  travelled  southward 
along  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  my  object  being  to  finish  my 
cartographical  work  of  the  summer.  On  September  20th  I 
made  a fresh  trip  over  the  Chum-kar-kashka  glacier  in  quest 
of  the  rods  we  put  in  on  August  13th.  The  change  in  their 
situation  indicated  only  the  very  slightest  movement ; in  the 
middle  of  the  glacier  the  greatest  velocity  amounted  to  slight- 
ly under  if  inches  a day.  This  slow  advance  is  probably 
characteristic  of  all  the  glaciers  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata,  and  is 


394 


THROUGH  ASIA 


consequent  chiefly  upon  the  long  winter,  the  great  amount  of 
radiation,  and  the  heavy  evaporation.  The  movement  due  to 
gravity  is  to  some  extent  neutralized,  owing  to  the  diminution 
in  the  mass  and  weight  of  the  glacier  through  the  agencies 
just  mentioned. 

The  Chum-kar-kashka  glacier  is  an  important  landmark. 
All  its  streams  seek  the  Little  Kara-kul,  and  finally  the  Kash- 
gar-daria;  while  the  drainage  of  the  region  to  the  south  of  it 
flows  into  the  Yarkand-daria.  All  the  streams  which  we 
crossed  in  the  further  course  of  our  journey  had  eroded  fairly 
deep  channels  in  the  lower  slopes  of  the  mountain  ; the  which 
slopes  consisted  of  detritus  and  old  moraines,  rounded  and 
levelled  down,  strewn  with  occasional  blocks  of  gneiss,  and 
sometimes  embellished  with  tiny  meadows.  On  our  left  the 
rocky  mountain  - walls  dipped  abruptly  under  the  detritus 
slopes,  and  were  crowned  by  several  sharp  crests.  On  the 
same  side,  too,  the  Kok-sel  glacier  issued  from  an  enormous 
couloir.  The  moraine  was  of  an  extraordinary  size,  and  was 
strewn  with  gigantic  bowlders  of  gneiss;  while  its  stream  was 
fed  from  several  directions.  We  now  found  that  the  farther 
we  went  in  a westerly  direction  the  smaller  were  the  glaciers 
and  the  larger  the  old  moraines.  This  is  no  doubt  due  to 
the  greater  energy  of  the  agents  of  dissolution  on  the  south- 
ern than  on  the  northern  versant. 

On  September  21st  we  made  a long  circuit  round  the  base 
of  the  mountain  towards  the  east-southeast  and  east,  as  far  as 
the  glacier-stream  of  the  Sar-aghil  glaciers,  and  on  the  2 2d 
we  passed  the  Shevar-aghil  and  Gherdumbeh  glaciers.  Both 
these  were  inaccessible,  owing  to  the  insurmountable  moraine- 
walls  which  surrounded  them  ; not  even  the  yaks  could  climb 
them.  The  conformation  of  the  mountain  was  in  that  quarter 
extremely  rugged ; in  fact,  it  was  a sheer  wall,  with  craggy 
contours  and  irregular  ridges  and  cols,  and  the  glaciers  were 
so  short  that  they  seldom  emerged  from  between  the  arms  of 
the  mountain.  Its  lower  slopes  presented  the  characteristics 
of  an  ancient  moraine  landscape,  with  cirques,  ridges,  erratic 
blocks,  and  pools;  and  farther  on  they  gradually  merged  into 
the  jflains  of  Tagh-arma.  The  next  two  fundamental  rifts  in 


ro  I'OR'r  I’AMIR  AND  BACK 


395 


the  central  mass  of  the  mountain  were  called  Kara-korum. 
'I'hey  possessed  no  crlaciers;  but  the  ancient  moraines  at 
their  base  were  deeply  excavated  by  running  water,  and  the 
entire  region  was  strewn  with  gigantic  fragments  of  a beauti- 
ful gray  gneiss  and  smaller  pieces  of  crystalline  schist,  among 
which  a number  of  hares  were  hojiping  about. 

I'inally  we  branched  off  to  the  northeast,  entering  the  glen 


KARA-KORUM,  OX  Til?:  SOUTH  OF  MUS-TAGH-ATA 

of  the  Tegherman-su.  There  we  halted  by  the  side  of  the 
brook,  in  a pleasant  camping-ground  among  the  grass  and 
bushes;  and  there  we  rested  over  September  23d.  The 
minimum  thermometer  gave  a reading  of  41°  Fahr.  (5°  C.), 
showing  that  we  had  descended  to  lower  regions.  At  4 p.  m. 
the  temperature  of  the  water  in  the  brook  was  46.9°  Fahr. 
(8.3°  C.),  and  it  was  pure  and  bright,  and  good  to  drink.  The 
volume  of  the  stream  was  70  cubic  feet  in  the  second. 

It  had  been  my  intention  to  make  the  entire  circuit  of  the 
Mus-tagh-ata,  from  the  Tegherman-su,  in  a north  and  north- 


396 


THROUGH  ASIA 


westerly  direction  till  I came  to  the  Little  Kara-kul.  Unfort- 
unately the  Kirghiz  declared  this  project  to  be  impracticable, 
owing  to  the  east  side  of  the  mountain  being  a labyrinth  of 
precipitous  and  jagged  crests,  which  it  was  impossible  to  sur- 
mount even  on  foot.  In  order  to  convince  myself  of  this,  I 
made  a reconnaissance  to  the  source  of  the  brook,  and  found 
that  the  Kirghiz  were  quite  right.  There  was  nothing  for  it, 
therefore,  but  to  go  round  the  mountain  by  the  old  way,  via 
Gedyack  and  Ullug-rabat,  and  on  September  30th,  1894,  we 
reached  our  old  haunts  on  the  east  shore  of  the  Little  Kai\> 
kul. 


CHAPTER  XXX II 


BOATINXi  ADVEXTL'RKS  ON  THK  lA'iTLK  KARA-KOL 

lUis  time  we  encamjied  beside  the  Little  Kara-kul  from 
the  last  day  of  September  until  October  gth,  jxartly  be- 
cause we  needed  rest,  and  because  it  was  unwise  to  pass 
directly  from  the  higher-lying  regions  down  into  the  warm 
valleys:  and  partly  because  I wished  to  take  soundings  of  the 
lake,  which  would,  I hoped,  verify  the  observations  I had  made 
during  our  first  visit  in  that  region  regarding  the  formation 
of  the  lake.  Quite  near  our  camp  there  was  an  aul  of  si.x 
yurts;  and  the  first  day  after  our  arrival  I consulted  with  its 
inhabitants,  and  with  Togdasin  Beg  and  some  of  my  own 
men,  as  to  the  best  way  of  taking  the  soundings.  There 
were,  of  course,  no  boats.  One  of  the  Kirghiz  had  indeed 
seen  a boat  on  the  upper  Amu-daria;  the  others  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  what  a boat  was  like,  and  could  not  even  con- 
ceive how  such  a thing  was  made.  Throughout  the  whole 
of  the  broad  valley  of  Sarik-kol  there  were  only  si.x  small 
birches,  growing  on  the  saint’s  grave  of  Kayindeh-masar ; 
but  to  touch  them  would  have  been  looked  upon  as  sacrilege. 
Apart  from  those  trees,  there  was  not  a bush  within  a hun- 
dred miles. 

The  only  things  to  be  found  in  our  immediate  neighbor- 
hood were  raw  hides  and  oks,  or  the  slightly  bent  poles  which 
support  the  cupola-shaped  felt  roof  of  the  Kirghiz  yurt.  But 
how  these  materials  could  be  turned  into  a boat  the  cleverest 
of  the  Kirghiz  was  unable  to  form  a conjecture.  I set  to 
work  and  made  a little  model  of  a boat  out  of  some  oiled 
linen,  with  a mast,  sail,  rudder,  and  keel,  and  very  well  she 
sailed,  greatlv  to  the  amazement  of  the  Kirghiz.  Togdasin 

Beg  said  bluntlv  that  a thinw  of  that  kind  on  a large  scale 

0^0  < ' 


39« 


THROUGH  ASIA 


would  cost  me  my  life,  and  I had  better  wait  till  the  lake 
froze,  which  he  thought  would  happen  in  about  six  weeks’ 
time.  The  temperature  at  night  had  already  fallen  to  14° 
h'ahr.  (—10°  C.),  and  every  morning  the  small  lagoons  on  the 
lake  shore  were  covered  with  a thin  coating  of  ice,  which, 
however,  melted  as  the  day  advanced.  The  lake  itself  was 
too  rough  to  allow  of  ice  being  formed.  During  the  whole 
of  the  ten  days  we  spent  on  its  shores,  full-fledged  gales  flew 
from  the  south  with  swift,  strong;  wino-s,  racintj  one  another 
across  the  lake  as  if  consumed  with  impatience  to  get  to  the 
Hulun-kul ; just  as  though  there  were  not  a single  molecule 
in  the  atmosphere,  and  the  great  Jan  Darin,  with  the  whole 
of  his  lanza  (garrison),  sat  in  the  vacuum  gasping  for  breath. 
But  I was  not  dismayed.  I had  heard  the  sea-waves  boil  and 
break  before  then,  and  jjreferred  braving  vigorous  /Eolus  to 
waiting  till  the  ice  formed. 

I had  the  tent  pitched  barely  two  yards  from  the  shore,  so 
that  I might  lie  and  listen  to  the  music  of  the  waves;  and 
the  “dock-yard,”  where  the  boat-building  was  to  take  place, 
was  close  beside  the  tent.  Here  we  lay  down  the  keel  and 
lashed  the  tough  ribs  to  it  with  ropes,  and  in  less  than  a 
couple  of  hours  the  frame  was  ready;  it  was  only  six  feet 
long  and  three  feet  broad.  A horse  which  had  been  so  con- 
siderate as  to  die  the  day  before  contributed  his  skin,  and  a 
sheep  also  gave  us  materials.  Thus  things  were  beginning 
to  look  more  ship-shape.  The  finishing  touches  were  added 
in  the  form  of  a mast  and  a sail  of  scarlet  cotton  stuff.  To 
each  side  we  fastened  two  inflated  goat-skins,  and  another 
was  lashed  at  the  stern,  which  somehow  i)ointed  suspiciously 
downward.  Our  oars  were  made  out  of  oks  split  at  one 
end,  and  a piece  of  goat-skin  stretched  across  the  fork,  h'or 
our  rudder  we  took  a spade,  pure  and  simple,  and  fastened  it 
firmly  to  her  stern. 

It  was  a very  queer  craft  which  left  the  slip  on  October  3d. 
Honestly  s|)eaking,  she  scarcely  did  credit  to  Swedish  boat- 
building, being  entirely  wanting  in  the  noble  lines  and  beau- 
tiful proportions  for  which  our  cutters  are  famous.  On  the 
contrary,  she  was  everywhere  as  warped  and  angular  as  an 


ox  THK  LITTLE  KARA-KUL 


399 


empty  sardine-box.  As  our  brave  craft,  in  which  I was  go- 
ing to  navigate  the  Kara-kul  for  a whole  week,  lay  bobbing 
up  and  down  near  the  shore  on  her  inflated  goat-skins,  she 
put  me  strangely  in  mind  of  some  unknown  antediluvian 
creature  hatching  its  eggs. 

Togdasin  Beg  turned  up  early  the  next  morning  to  inspect 
the  monster.  He  pulled  up  at  a respectful  distance.  His 
expression  was  indescribably  comical,  and  seemed  to  say  ; 
“ Whv,  you  don’t  mean  to  tell  me  a boat  looks  like  that.^  I 
never  could  have  imagined  such  a thing!”  Then,  the  next 
moment,  an  ironical  smile  crossed  his  lips,  and  he  seemed  to 
be  thinking  to  himself — “ What  a crazy  looking  affair !”  But 
he  had  the  tact  not  to  say  anything,  and  I bit  my  lip  to  keep 
a straight  countenance.  Meanwhile  I invited  him  to  go  for 
a sail  later  in  the  day.  After  some  demur,  he  accepted  the 
invitation.  When  it  came  to  the  point,  he  was  far  less  afraid 
than  his  fellow-tribesmen. 

On  the  day  our  boat  was  launched,  the  Kirghiz  assembled 
from  far  and  near;  and  there  were  even  a score  or  so  of 
women,  with  their  big  white  turban -shaped  head-dresses, 
peeping  from  behind  a moraine  - mound.  I asked  the  old 
men  if  they  thought  Jan  Darin  would  be  able  to  keep  from 
laughing  if  we  put  him  on  board,  and  sent  him  out  on  the 
lake.  The  idea  tickled  them  so,  they  were  ready  to  split  with 
laucrhter. 

O 

In  a word,  the  whole  thing  was  a sensational  event,  a very 
uncommon  tamashah  (spectacle) ; and  reports  of  it  spread 
like  wildfire  over  the  whole  of  the  eastern  Pamirs.  On  our 
way  back  to  Kashgar,  we  used  to  be  asked  at  the  Kirghiz 
aids  where  we  halted  for  the  nis[ht,  even  at  great  distances 
from  the  Little  Kara-kul,  if  it  were  true  that  a stranger  with 
wings  had  flown  up  Mus-tagh-ata,  and  later  had  flitted  back- 
ward and  forward  across  the  lake  t Mollah  Islam  even  went 
so  far  as  to  compose  a song,  which  was  afterwards  sung  of  an 
evening  to  the  music  of  gedydek  (violin),  and  no  doubt  will 
be  handed  down  to  posterity  in  the  form  of  a legend. 

It  really  was  a supreme  moment  in  my  existence  when 
the  boat  was  launched.  The  Kirghiz  followed  its  move- 


400 


THROUGH  ASIA 


ments  with  bated  breath,  and  were  astounded  at  my  temerity 
when  I stepped  in  and  went  for  a short  sail  in  her,  for  it  was 
blowing  hard.  But  the  little  craft,  with  her  five  goat -skin 
bags,  rode  the  water  gayly,  and  Togdasin  Beg  was  so  en- 
couraged by  the  sight  that  on  my  next  trial-trip  he  willingly 
accompanied  me. 

Never  did  bluer,  purer,  fresher  waves  rock  a more  ram- 
shackle contrivance  than  ours : she  seemed  to  feel  about  as 
much  at  home  on  the  water  as  a hen  or  a cat.  No  pride  at 
being  the  first  to  ride  the  waves  of  the  Kara-kul  ; no  exulta- 
tion at  being  at  such  a sublime  altitude  above  the  level  of 
the  sea!  Anxiously  she  swayed  on  the  crisp  curling  waves; 
which  seemed  as  if  they  took  a malicious  pleasure  in  playing 
with  her  fears.  Oh  what  a boat  that  was ! A perfect  men- 
agerie of  a boat!  Her  carcass  compounded  of  horse  and 
sheep  and  goat;  in  character  a mule  ; in  her  movements  re- 
calling the  graceful  gambollings  of  a cow.  And  yet  she  did 
full  honor  to  her  descent : for  she  was  as  obstinate  as  a mule, 
and  when  she  dropped  into  the  trough  of  the  waves,  she 
kicked  and  plunged  like  a mustang.  Oh  that  Irish  pig  of  a 
boat ! She  never  understood  when  you  called  to  her  “ Star- 
board ” or  Larboard.”  “Right”  and  “left”  were  words 
that  meant  to  her  the  exact  opposite  of  what  ordinary  folk 
understand  by  them.  To  all  the  rules  of  navigation  she  was 
perfectly  indifferent,  and  you  might  labor  at  her  tiller  like  a 
galley-slave:  she  just  deluged  you  with  water  and  went  her 
own  way.  No  matter  whether  we  wanted  to  go  south  or 
wanted  to  go  north,  she  always  imagined  we  had  a head- 
wind to  face  ; and  if  we  tried  to  tack  ever  so  little,  she  was 
bound  to  fall  off,  till  she  got  wind  and  wave  behind  her.  In 
a word,  she  was  every  bit  as  stubborn  as  a yak ! 

As  the  wind  blew  constantly  from  the  south,  every  time 
we  wanted  to  use  our  precious  boat  we  had  to  tow  her  round 
to  the  south  shore,  and  then  let  her  drift  with  the  wind  across 
the  lake,  taking  soundings  as  we  w^ent.  This  method  was 
inaugurated  on  October  4th,  when  the  boat  was  towed  by  a 
horse  through  the  shallow  water  to  the  middle  of  the  south- 
ern  shore.  Then  I and  one  of  the  Kirghiz,  Mohammed  Tur- 


OUR  MAKKSIIIFT  JIOAT  ON  IHK  I.ITTUK  KARA-KUL 


ON  THK  UTTLE  KARA-KUL 


403 


cl u,  sot  into  her.  There  was  not  much  wind;  but  it  was 
cold,  so  that  I was  well  wrapped  up  in  my  furs,  before  we 
had  got  very  far  from  the  shore,  one  of  those  hurricanc-like 
scpialls  from  the  south  swej)t  over  the  lake,  ploughing  up  the 
water  furiously  before  it.  We  lowered  the  sail  and  held  fast 
to  the  sides,  for  the  boat  was  jjlunging  like  a restive  horse. 
Our  situation  was  critical — the  boat  was  drifting  out  to  the 
middle  of  the  lake,  and  it  was  a long  way  to  either  shore.  I 
was  steering,  when  all  of  a sudden  she  dipped  astern,  and  a 
sea  broke  over  us,  half  filling  the  boat  and  wetting  us  to  the 
skin.  The  goat-skin  bag  which  held  up  the  stern  had  got 
adrift,  and  was  floating  off  over  the  water  on  its  own  account. 
I'.very  wave  that  reached  us  broke  right  over  us,  although  I 
tried  to  take  the  sting  out  of  them  with  the  oar,  while  the 
Kirghiz  Mohammed  baled  away  for  dear  life. 

Our  position  was  really  serious;  particularly  when  both 
the  starboard  goat-skins  began  to  collapse,  the  wind  oozing 
out  of  them  with  a shrill  hissing  sound,  and  the  boat  took  a 
list  to  starboard.  The  seas  broke  over  us  from  all  sides,  leap- 
ing upon  us  like  malevolent  sea-trolls,  with  wild  dishevelled 
hair. 

Thus  we  drifted,  tossing  on  the  angry  waves  over  unknown 
depths.  1 was  afraid  the  other  goat -skin  bags  would  jjart 
company  with  us,  or  would  lose  their  buoyancy  before  we 
reached  the  shore,  and  kept  calculating  whether  or  not  I 
should  be  able  to  swim  the  intervening  distance.  Nor  were 
my  spirits  raised  by  Mohammed  Turdu  becoming  dismally 
sea-sick  ; he  would  assuredly  have  been  as  white  as  a sheet 
had  he  not  already  been  as  sunburned  as  any  gypsy.  He 
baled  the  whole  time,  and  baled  double  measure : on  the  one 
side  water  and  on  the  other — Poor  fellow  ! he  had  never 
been  in  a boat  in  his  life  before,  and  had  never  heard  of  sea- 
sickness. He  fully  believed  his  last  hour  had  come. 

The  Kirghiz  crowded  the  nearest  shore  on  horseback  and 
on  foot,  e.xpecting  every  moment  to  see  the  boat  go  down. 
But,  happily,  we  succeeded  in  keeping  her  afloat;  and  it  was 
with  a feeling  of  indescribable  relief  that  we  at  last  saw  she 
was  gliding  over  shallow  water.  Safe  and  sound,  but  wet 


404 


THROUGH  ASIA 


through,  we  finally  reached  the  shore,  hurried  to  camp,  and 
kindled  a huge  fire,  at  which  we  slowly  dried  our  clothes. 

Our  first  sounding  expedition  was  thus  a complete  fiasco. 
The  only  discovery  we  made  was  that  the  drift -sand  con- 
tributed, in  as  great  a degree,  perhaps,  as  the  glacial  mud, 
to  the  levelling  up  of  the  lake-basin  ; for,  while  the  glacier- 
streams  only  develop  energy  during  the  summer,  sand-storms 
are  a common  occurrence  all  the  vear  round.  In  the  nieht, 
however,  the  drift-sand  which  drops  from  the  passing  storms 
is  blown  away  across  the  slippery  surface  of  the  ice.  Several 
times  on  the  lake  we  were  enveloped  in  clouds  of  sand  so 
thick  that  we  could  hardly  make  out  the  shore-line;  and  in 
the  evening,  after  the  storm  had  subsided,  the  water  was  still 
muddy.  The  everlasting  mutton  broth  actually  crunched  be- 
tween our  teeth  when  we  took  it  at  supper. 

The  following  day  we  accomplished  three  good  lines  of 
sounding  without  any  further  adventure;  and  on  the  8th  set 
out  from  the  western  end  of  the  southern  shore.  We  becran 
work  late  in  the  day,  so  as  to  let  the  wind  settle  a little  first, 
and  drifted  gently  across  the  lake,  dispensing  with  the  sail  so 
as  not  to  disturb  the  accuracy  of  the  soundings.  Hour  after 
hour  passed  ; then  dusk  came  on,  and  it  was  quite  dark  when 
we  reached  shallow  water.  We  were  only  a couple  of  hundred 
yards  from  the  northern  shore  when  suddenly  a dead  calm 
set  in,  and  the  next  moment  a violent  gale  from  the  north, 
which  tossed  the  boat  back  into  the  lake  as  though  it  had 
been  a mere  nutshell.  We  felt  that  now  we  had  the  whole 
lake  before  us,  and  the  night.  Row  as  we  might,  we  could 
make  no  head-way:  the  wind  was  too  strong  for  us,  and  piti- 
lessly drove  us  out  to  the  very  middle  of  the  lake.  It  was 
pitch-dark  until  tlic  moon  rose  and  comforted  us  a little; 
while  Islam  Bai,  who  was  uneasy  at  our  non-apj)earance,  made 
a large  fire  at  the  camj), which  served  us  fora  light-house.  I'he 
north  gale  was,  however,  of  short  duration,  and  b}-  dint  of 
hard  rowing  we  managed  to  reach  canq)  about  midnight. 

One  great  advantage  in  navigating  those  waters  was  that 
we  did  not  fear  meeting  other  craft  or  being  run  down  by 
careless  roisterers  rc'turning  home  late  of  an  evening.  W'e 


MV  iioKsi:-sKi\  I’.oAi  IN  A iii:a\\’  sroK.M  ON  Till-;  urri.r;  kara-kl;l 


ox  rill-:  i.riTLi':  kara-kol 


407 


were  the  unquestioned  masters  of  the  Little  Kara-kul,  and 
had  j)lenty  of  sea-room  to  turn  our  boat  in  ; for  the  lake  was 
about  two  miles  long,  two  miles  broad  at  the  s(nith  end,  rath- 
er more  than  half  a mile  at  the  north  end,  and  a mile  in  the 
middle. 

1 ha\'e  made  fun  of  our  noble  craft.  Let  me  now  say  a 
word  in  its  j>raise,  as  a sort  of  memorial  on  its  grave,  d he 
completion  of  my  soundings  and  the  continuance  of  unfavor- 
able weather  put  an  end  to  our  trips  on  the  lake.  I was  sor- 
ry to  have  to  take  our  pleasure-yacht  to  pieces,  and  return 
the  various  materials  to  their  respective  purveyors,  instead  of 
sending  it  to  the  luhnographical  Museum  at  Stockholm  ; for 
beyond  a doubt  it  would  have  been  one  of  the  stars  of  the 
collection.  It  had,  indeed,  served  to  show  the  Kirghiz  what 
sort  of  thing  a boat  is;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  im- 
pressed them  with  any  e.xaggerated  admiration  of  .Swedish 
navigation. 

Meanwhile  we  had  ascertained  the  bathymetrical  or  depth 
relations  of  the  Kara-kul,  having  taken  103  soundings  alto- 
gether. .\11  these  1 marked  on  an  enlarged  map,  on  which  I 
afterwards  drew  out  the  curves  of  depth.  The  ma.ximum 
depth  was  79  feet  in  the  southern  half  of  the  lake;  in  the 
middle  it  varied  between  50  and  70  feet.  Along  the  whole 
of  the  southern  shore,  where  the  glacial  streams  entered  the 
lake,  there  was  a fairly  steep  deposit  of  mud ; whereas  on  the 
north  the  moraine  sank  down  to  the  lake  level  at  a gentle  in- 
clination. At  the  northwest  corner,  where  the  Kara-kul 
stream  issued  from  the  lake,  numerous  small  erratic  blocks 
of  gneiss  projected  above  the  surface  of  the  water.  Close  to 
the  southeastern  shore,  under  the  steeper  cliffs,  the  sounding- 
line touched  bottom  after  uncoiling  about  5 or  6 feet;  where- 
as everywhere  in  the  northern  half  of  the  lake  it  ran  out  to 
1000  feet  or  more.  Near  the  middle  of  the  west  shore  there 
was  a small  island,  Kindick-masar,  every  spring  the  breeding- 
place  of  innumerable  wild  geese.  In  the  same  quarter,  too, 
we  discovered  two  large  shallow  creeks,  and  some  submarine 
dunes  of  drift -sand,  formed  in  the  shelter  of  certain  project- 
ing rocks. 


4o8 


THROUGH  ASIA 


With  regard  to  the  changes  of  color  in  the  lake,  the  deep- 
er parts  were  a deep  blue,  the  shallow  parts  light  green,  and 
the  strips  along  which  algae  grew  dark  violet. 

The  Kirghiz  were  very  decided  in  their  statements  that 
there  were  no  fish  in  Little  Kara-kul ; and  in  point  of  fact  I 
only  found  one,  a small  one,  floating  dead  on  the  water.  It 
was  of  the  same  species  as  those  of  which  I collected  speci- 
mens from  the  neighboring  Bassyk  - kul,  and  was  probably 
dropped  in  Little  Kara-kul  by  a bird. 

The  water  was  fresh,  and  good  to  drink.  During  our  stay 
the  temperature  near  the  shore  varied  between  53.6°  Fahr. 
(12°  C.)  and  37.4°  Fahr.  (3°  C.),  and  in  the  middle  of  the  lake, 
at  the  bottom,  it  was  46.4'’  Fahr.  (8°  C.). 

In  several  places  numerous  small  springs  entered  the  lake 
in  different  parts;  and  in  all  such  places  there  were  open 
holes  in  the  ice  nearly  the  whole  winter.  Little  Kara-kul 
freezes  in  the  middle  of  November,  and  the  ice  begins  to 
break  up  in  the  middle  of  April.  The  Kirghiz  described  the 
ice  as  resembling  a sheet  of  looking-glass,  so  smooth  that  the 
wind  sweeps  away  every  particle  of  snow.  They  also  told 
me  that  they  could  see  broad  woods  and  pastures  (algce)  at 
the  bottom  of  the  lake  through  the  ice,  and  that  on  winter 
nights  the  images  of  the  stars  twinkled  as  brightly  as  the 
actual  stars  did  in  the  sky  above. 

Now  that  we  had  work  to  do  every  day,  our  life  passed  as 
quietly  and  peacefully  as  it  did  during  our  former  stay  beside 
the  lake.  Sometimes,  when  the  day’s  work  was  done,  and  it 
was  blowing  hard,  I used  to  go  and  sit  on  a rock  by  the 
shore,  and  imagine  that  the  waves  which  came  rolling  in  to 
my  feet  were  beating  against  the  wooded  isles  of  the  Skargard 
at  home;  and  a thousand  memories  of  my  native  land  would 
crowd  in  upon  my  mind,  lighting  up  as  with  torches  the  dark 
night  of  my  loneliness.  I imagined  myself  a iDilgrim  resting 
in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  Nature’s  temples,  at  the  thresh- 
old of  which  the  snow-capped  mountain -giants  kept  watch 
and  ward.  At  their  feet  lay  the  lake  wonderful,  set  like  a 
jewel  of  the  purest  water,  its  bright  placid  surface  making  a 
glorious  mirror  for  them  to  behold  their  own  stern  features  in. 


ox  TllK  LITTLE  KARA  KUL 


409 


It  would  be  unjust  to  call  the  Little  Kara-kul  a lifeless 
lake.  In  the  course  of  my  topographical  labors  I many  a time 
disturbed  thriving  broods  of  wild  duck  or  wild  geese  content- 
edlv  feeding  among  the  rushes  by  the  shore.  On  our  aj> 
proach  they  would  tly  out  into  the  lake,  with  legs  drooping 
rind  necks  out-stretched.  At  night,  too,  I often  heard  the  wild 
geese  calling  to  their  young,  or  heard  their  hoarse  honking 
as  they  sailed  away  over  the  tent  in  large  Hocks.  Occasion- 
ally there  were  gaps  made  in  one  or  other  of  the  broods;  for 
we  were  not  averse  to  vary  the  deadly  monotony  of  our  daily 
fare. 

Most  beautiful  of  all,  however,  were  the  atmos|Hieric  effects. 
With  a master-hand  were  painted  the  most  inthralling  and 
gorgeous  pictures — scenes  so  utterly  unlike  each  other  that 
I sometimes  fancied  myself  transported  to  two  or  three  dif- 
ferent ])arts  of  the  world  all  within  the  space  of  a few  min- 
utes. I'or  instance,  the  sun  would  rise  in  a sky  of  purest 
blue,  the  atmosphere  being  still  and  warm,  Mus-tagh-ata 
standing  out  in  clear  and  sharp-cut  relief,  with  the  most  deli- 
cate details  of  its  blue  shimmering  snow  - fields,  and  every 
varving  tint  of  its  rounded  and  precipitous  altitudes  traced  in 
lines  of  matchless  beauty.  The  dark  mountain-sides  would 
be  refiected  in  the  ever-changing  mirror  of  the  lake,  now  a 
light  lovelv  green,  now  a deep  intense  blue,  while  the  hush  of 
a perfect  Sabbath  day  brooded  over  the  whole  scene.  Then, 
all  of  a sudden,  white  clouds,  immediately  followed  by  dark 
ones,  would  rustle  up  over  the  northern  horizon.  The  sky 
above  the  Pamirs  would  put  on  a steel-gray  wintrv  aspect : 
in  a moment  the  entire  vault  of  heaven  would  be  packed  with 
clouds.  The  wind  would  whistle  in  sudden  gusts,  then  would 
blow  with  unmitigated  fury.  The  lake  immediately  under 
the  shore  became  as  green  as  the  deep  sea,  but  farther  out 
glowed  a dusky  violet.  From  end  to  end  it  would  be  streaked 
with  running  lines  of  white  spray;  while  the  waves  dashed 
themselves  with  headlong  violence  against  the  shores,  which 
thev  have  been  crumbling  down  and  eating  at  for  thousands 
of  years.  But  within  an  hour  the  storm  would  be  all  gone. 
Then  would  come  a shower  of  hail ; and  then  a heavy  down- 


410 


THROUGH  ASIA 


pour  of  rain.  The  wind  would  die  away.  The  lake  would 
lose  its  brightness,  and  become  gray  from  the  splashing  of 
the  raindrops. 

But  this  spell  of  bad  weather  seldom  lasted  long,  and  left 
no  traces  behind  it.  Every  afternoon,  as  regular  as  clock- 
work, the  east  wind  came  piping  over  the  pass  of  Kara-tash 


KEX(;-SIIKV.\R  (the  PEACE  WHERE  THE  IKE-BEL-SU  ISSUES  FROM 
THE  MUS-TAGH  RANGE)  SHROUDED  IN  MIST 


and  down  the  valley  of  the  Ike-bel-su,  wreathing  the  land- 
scape in  a misty  haze.  With  the  e.xception  of  our  immediate 
surroundings,  every  object  became  lost  to  sight.  The  shore 
faded  away  in  both  directions.  Right  before  me  sky  and 
water  melted  together.  Not  a glimpse  of  the  mountains  that 
overhung  the  lake  met  my  searching  eye.  I could  easily 
have  imagined  I was  standing  on  the  brink  of  the  boundless 
ocean. 

On  one  occasion  the  mist  caught  up  the  artist’s  brush,  and 
used  it  with  magnificent  effects,  or  rather  contrasts.  We 

O 


ON  TIIK  LITTLK  KARA-KUL 


41 1 

were  returning  from  an  expedition  to  the  Ike-bel-su.  Its  val- 
ley was  filled  with  murky  mist,  which  surged  up  the  lower 
sloj)es  of  the  Mus-tagh  range,  darkening  every  hollow  in  their 
flanks.  And  so  swiftly,  so  silently,  did  it  boil  uj)  and  up,  that 
the  mountains  s})eedily  vanished  from  sight,  like  the  image 
on  an  unfixed  photographic  plate  when  exjjosed  to  the  light. 
W hile  the  lower  regions  were  thus  enshrouded  in  thick  gloom, 
the  towering  summits  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata  shone  out  brilliant 


MV  C.\R.\VAX  ox  THr:  M.\KCII 

and  vivid,  like  electric  lamps  streaming  across  the  billows  of 
the  onrolling  mist.  The  sun  sank  behind  the  mountains; 
instantly  it  was  twilight.  Higher  and  higher  crept  the  mist 
up  the  mountain  - sides.  The  topmost  peaks  of  the  great 
mountain,  and  the  snow-fields  glancing  like  silver  mail  on  its 
shoulders,  were  bathed  in  a scarlet  glow,  shading  away  to  a 
glorious  fiery  yellow.  Less  and  less  grew  the  sunlit  altitudes. 
With  ill-omened  ease  and  haste  the  envious  shadows  mount- 
ed up  the  faces  of  the  precipices.  One  moment  the  crown- 
ing summit  glittered  out  over  the  deluge  of  mist;  then  paled 
— a pyramid  faintly,  indistinctly  outlined  against  the  dark 
background  of  the  sky  ; then,  at  the  end  of  a few  swift-ebb- 


412 


THROUGH  ASIA 


ing  moments,  it,  too,  was  engulfed  in  the  unfathomable  ocean 
of  mist. 

And  then  came  the  beautiful  pictures  of  the  night.  The  mist 
vanished.  The  moon  floated  up  above  the  mountain-tops, 
pale  and  cold,  moving  with  frigid  majesty  through  the  dark- 
blue  sky,  strewn  with  its  glittering  stars.  The  hollow  flanks 
of  the  mountains  were  draped  with  long  scarf-like  shadows, 
showing  all  the  blacker  by  reason  of  the  rocky  promontories 
being  bathed  in  the  silver  moonlight.  A silence  as  of  the 
grave  held  the  mountains  awe-struck  in  its  spell.  I could 
hear  my  own  heart  beat. 

It  was  not  without  regret  that  I left  this  glorious  little 
Alpine  lake,  which  I had  come  to  look  upon  almost  as  my 
own  possession,  and  on  whose  hospitable  shores  we  had 
spent  so  many  peaceful,  refreshing,  and  profitable  days.  But 
all  the  same  we  left  it  on  October  9th.  A furious  gale  was 
blowinsf  from  the  south.  The  waves  sang  their  melancholv, 
but  soothing,  song,  to  which  I never  grew  tired  of  listening 
— sang  in  honor  of  our  departure.  But  the  echoes  soon 
died  away  in  the  distance,  as  we  once  more  shaped  our 
course  upward,  towards  the  untrodden  realms  of  the  mighty 
glaciers. 


CHAPTHR  XXXIII 


LIFE  AMOXd  I'HE  KIRCJHIZ 

Before  we  leave  the  highlands  of  the  Pamirs,  and  return 
to  Kashgar,  I should  like  to  say  a few  words  about  the  Kir- 
ghiz, the  people  among  whom  I Ivad  now'  so  long  sojourned. 
I have  already  described  their  baigas  or  mounted  games,  and 
the  important  part  they  play  in  their  otherwise  monotonous 
life.  The  predominant  interests  of  the  Kirghiz  are  the  care 
of  their  flocks,  and  the  periodic  migrations  which  dcjiend  upon 
them.  They  spend  the  summers  on  the  yeylaus  (summer 
pasture  - grounds),  on  the  higher  slopes  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata 
and  the  Pamir  mountains;  and  in  winter,  when  the  cold  and 
snow  drive  them  down  from  the  mountains,  they  seek  the 
pastures  (kishlaks)  in  the  valleys.  'Fhe  members  of  the  same 
aul  are,  as  a rule,  kinsmen,  and  always  graze  the  same  yey- 
laus and  the  same  kishlaks.  Xo  other  aul  is  permitted  to 
encroach  upon  pastures  thus  appropriated  without  previous 
aofreement. 

O 

When  a child  is  born,  the  kinsmen  come  the  day  after- 
wards to  offer  their  congratulations.  .A  sheep  is  slaughtered 
and  a feast  held,  and  prayers  are  said.  On  the  third  day 
the  child  receives  its  name,  which  the  mollah  looks  up  in  a 
book,  everv  dav  havinsr  its  ow'n  name,  and  bv  that  the  child 
is  known.  To  this  is  added  the  word  Ogli  (son),  together 
with  the  father’s  name;  for  example,  Kencheh  Sattovaldi  Ogli. 

\\  hen  a young  Kirghiz  wishes  to  marry,  his  parents  choose 
him  a suitable  wife,  whom  he  is  obliged  to  take ; if,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  bride-elect  is  not  walling,  the  marriage  may  be 
abandoned,  though  the  girl,  too,  is  in  most  cases  dependent 
on  the  w’ill  of  her  parents.  If  the  youth  has  no  parents,  he 
chooses  a bride  for  himself;  but  he  must  always  pay  kalim 


414 


THROUGH  ASIA 


(dowry)  to  her  parents.  A rich  Kirghiz  pays  as  much  as 
ten  or  twelve  jambaus  (one  jambau  equals  £c)  to  ^lo);  a 
poor  one  pays  a couple  of  horses  or  yaks.  The  girl’s  parents, 
therefore,  always  endeavor  to  secure  her  a bai  (rich  man)  for  a 
husband;  the  young  man’s  a plain  and  poor  daughter-in-law, 
who  will  be  content  witli  a modest  kalim.  If  the  girl  be  young 
and  pretty,  a very  large  dowry  is  always  asked. 

Near  the  Mus-tagh-ata  there  lived  in  1894  an  unusually 
pretty  Kirghiz  girl,  Nevra  Khan,  who  had  suitors  from  far 
and  near;  but  her  father  asked  such  an  unconscionably  high 
kalim,  that  she  had  reached  her  twenty-fifth  year  without 
being  married.  A young  Kirghiz,  who  was  head  over  ears  in 
love  with  her,  begged  me  to  “lend”  him  the  sum  demanded; 
and  even  the  parents  of  the  young  people  tried  to  get  round 
me,  though  naturally  without  success. 

After  the  contract  is  made,  the  betrothal  may  last  an  indefi- 
nite period;  but  as  soon  as  the  entire  kalim  is  paid,  the  mar- 
riage takes  place.  A new  yurt  is  pitched,  and  within  it  the 
wedding  is  celebrated  in  the  presence  of  as  many  guests  as 
like  to  come.  Dastarkhan  (refreshments)  of  mutton,  rice,  and 
tea  are  served ; then  the  mollah  reads  out  aloud  the  duties 
of  the  young  couple  towards  each  other.  Baigas  are  held. 
Everybody  wears  their  best  khalat  (coat).  The  bride  is 
dressed  in  all  her  finery  and  ornaments.  If  the  man  belongs 
to  another  aul,  the  ceremony  is  performed  at  the  girl’s  aul, 
whence  the  newly  married  couple  are  escorted  to  their  future 
domicile  by  all  the  guests. 

When  a Kirghiz  dies,  the  body  is  well  washed,  and  dressed 
in  clean  white  clothes;  then,  having  been  wrapj^ed  in  linen 
and  felts,  it  is  carried  with  as  little  delay  as  possible  to  the 
grave.  I'he  ground  is  dug  out  to  the  dei:>th  of  three  feet, 
and  at  the  bottom  of  the  hole,  but  at  the  side,  another  hori- 
zontal trench  is  excavated,  and  in  that  the  body  is  laid. 
'I'hen  the  outer  grave  is  filled  uj),  and  the  place  covered 
with  a stone;  or  if  the  dead  man  were  a bai,  his  grave  is 
marked  by  a small  dome  standing  on  a rectangular  base, 
h'or  forty  days  after  the  interment  the  grave  is  \-isitcd  by  the 
mourners. 


KIRGHIZ  GIRL  FROM  TUR-BULUNG 


LIFK  AMONG  THK  KIRGHIZ 


417 


The  household  c^ood^  of  a Kirghiz  family  are  not  many. 
When  they  flit,  two  or  three  yaks  generally  suffice  to  trans- 
port all  their  belongings.  The  yurt  (uy)  itself,  with  its  wooden 
pole  and  thick  felt  covering,  the  saddles,  horse-cloths,  “ bed- 
clothes,” and  loose  carpets,  are  the  most  bulky.  Ne.\t  come 
the  household  utensiks,  among  which  the  kazau,  a large  iron 
cooking-pot,  is  the  most  important;  furthermore,  china  basins 
{chinnch  and  pialeh),  flat  wooden  dishes  {tabak),  iron  or  copper 
cans  with  handles  and  lids  {kungan  and  dncgiin).  A number 
of  other  things,  such  as  a loom,  a kneading-trough,  a corn- 
sieve,  hatchets,  sacks  for  keeping  corn  and  flour  in,  a cradle, 
a fiddle,  and  a guitar,  an  iron  stand  for  the  cooking-pot,  pokers, 
etc.,  are  never  wanting  in  a well-appointed  uy.  Most  of  these 
articles  are  bought  at  Kashgar,  Yanghi-hissar,  or  Yarkand, 
though  there  are  native  blacksmiths  and  carpenters  in  the 
Sarik-kol  valley.  The  wood  for  their  yurts  is  procured  from 
the  valleys  on  the  east  side  of  the  Mus-tagh-ata,  as  no  trees 
grow  in  the  Sarik-kol  valley. 

In  every  tent  there  is  always  a place  .set  apart,  the  ash- 
khaneh  (larder),  in  which  they  keep  milk  and  cream  in  many 
forms,  as  well  as  other  kinds  of  food.  The  drink  chiefly  in 
favor  is  ayran  (boiled  milk  diluted  with  water,  and  left  to 
become  sour),  a particularly  refreshing  drink  in  the  summer. 
Kaifuak  is  yak’s  cream  of  the  most  delicious  description, 
thick  and  sweet  and  yellow,  with  a flavor  of  almonds.  Ordi- 
nary milk  is  called  S7(t.  All  these  various  kinds  of  milk  are 
kept  in  goat-skin  bags. 

The  Kirghiz  live  chiefly  on  yak’s  milk  and  mutton.  A 
sheep  is  slaughtered  once  or  twice  a week:  and  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  aul  then  enjoy  a good  square  meal.  They  crowd 
into  the  tent,  round  the  fire,  where  the  meat  is  boiling  in  the 
kazan.  The  portions  are  distributed  among  those  who  are 
present.  Then  each  pulls  out  his  knife,  and  eats  away  till 
nothing  is  left  but  the  bare  bone ; and  even  that  is  cracked 
in  order  to  extract  the  marrow,  which  is  considered  a great 
dainty.  Both  before  and  after  the  meal  the  hands  are  washed, 
and  when  it  is  finished  they  are  carried  to  the  beard,  while 
all  cry  together  Allahu  akhbar  !"  (God  is  Great!)  The  five 
I. -27 


4i8 


THROUGH  ASIA 


daily  prayers  of  Islam  are  said  punctually  by  the  oldest  man 
of  each  aul. 

In  daily  life  the  women  drag  the  heavier  load.  They  pitch 
and  strike  the  tents,  weave  carpets  and  ribbons,  wind  ropes 
and  yarn,  milk  the  yak-cows  and  the  goats,  tend  the  sheep, 
the  children,  and  the  household.  Their  flocks  are  guarded 
by  a number  of  savage  sheep-dogs,  which  live  on  what  is  left 
over  at  meal-times. 

The  men  may  be  said  to  do  nothing.  As  a rule  they  sit 
round  the  fire  all  day  long,  or  at  most  drive  the  yaks  to  and 
from  the  higher  pastures.  But  they  often  visit  their  neigh- 
bors to  buy  or  sell  or  barter  their  stock.  In  the  winter  they 
generally  spend  the  whole  day  inside  the  yurt,  sitting  round 
the  fire  (which  is  fed  with  tesek  or  yak’s  dung)  talking,  while 
the  storm  howls  outside  and  the  snow  swirls  in  dense  clouds 
round  the  yurt. 

Thus  the  Kirghiz  passes  his  life,  peacefully  and  monoto- 
nously, one  year  being  exactly  like  another,  with  the  same 
occupations,  the  same  recurring  migrations.  As  time  passes 
he  grows  older.  He  sees  his  children  leave  him  and  make 
new  homes  for  themselves.  His  beard  grows  white,  and 
finally  he  is  carried  to  the  nearest  saint’s  grave,  at  the  foot  of 
the  snow-covered  mountains,  among  which  he  and  his  fore- 
fathers have  struggled  through  an  existence  which,  though 
scant  of  joys,  has  yet  been  free  from  serious  cares. 

For  this  reason,  then,  they  looked  upon  my  long  sojourn 
among  them  as  an  interesting  episode.  They  had  never 
before  had  an  opportunity  to  see  a Fercnghi  (European)  at 
close  quarters,  or  to  observe  him  going  about  all  his  mysteri- 
ous occupations.  They  could  never  understand  why  I in- 
sisted upon  visiting  every  single  glacier,  why  I sketched 
everything,  and  actually  went  the  length  of  hacking  pieces 
of  stone  off  the  rocks  and  filling  my  boxes  with  them;  for 
to  them  they  were  as  commonplace  and  uninteresting  as 
possible. 

'I'heir  knowledge  of  the  outer  world  is  very  limited.  They 
only  know  the  district  they  live  in,  but  that  they  do  know 
extraordinarily  well ; as  also  the  routes  across  the  Pamirs, 


(JK()U)>  OK  KIK(;iIlZ  WOMKX 


LIFH  AMOXC;  rHK  KIRCiHIZ 


421 


and  to  the  j)iincij)al  towns  in  the  west  of  h.ast  I urkestan. 
But  anything  beyond  that  is  a sealed  book.  1 hey  have 
heard  of  Russia,  hhigland,  China.  Persia,  Kanjut,  Kashmir, 
'I'ibet,  Hindustan,  the  (ireat  Kara-kul,  Lop-nor,  and  Peking. 
Their  sole  knowledge  of  the  busy  places  of  the  world  is  de- 
rived from  the  towns  in  that  j^art  of  Asia,  or  from  itinerant 
merchants  ; but  they  seldom  pay  much  heed  to  what  they  learn 
from  these  sources,  for  it  is  mostly  matter  that  is  foreign  to 
their  own  concerns,  and  the  echoes  of  the  peacock  “ madding 
crowd  ” never  reach  them.  To  them  the  world  is  flat,  and 
girdled  by  the  sea,  while  the  sun  circles  round  it  every  day. 
'Pry  how  I would  to  make  them  comprehend  the  real  facts, 
they  were  never  able  to  grasp  them  ; they  only  answered  with 
imperturbable  assurance  that  at  any  rate  the  place  in  which 
they  themselves  lived  stood  still  and  never  moved. 

The  old  men  often  told  me  the  story  of  their  lives,  and  it 
was  always  interesting  and  instructive  to  listen  to,  not  least 
for  the  sake  of  the  language.  Among  the  older  Kirghiz,  Beg 
Bulat,  of  Rang-kul,  had  had  a varied  and  adventurous  life. 
In  the  days  of  Yakub  Beg  he  served  for  twelve  years  as  a 
yuz-bashi  (chief  of  a hundred  men)  in  Tagharma.  After  the 
death  of  Yakub  Beg,  in  1877,  the  Chinese  took  Kashgar. 
Two  years  later  Hakim  Khan  Tura  marched  with  a thousand 
men  from  Margelan  to  Tash-kurgan,  where  he  was  joined  by 
Beg  Bulat  and  his  brother,  and  five  hundred  Sarik-kol  Kir- 
ghiz. For  an  entire  week  they  besieged  the  Tajik  population 
of  Tash-kurgan,  but  were  unable  to  concpier  them.  .V  large 
Chinese  force  then  entered  the  mountains  for  the  purpose  of 
quelling  the  revolt;  and  the  Kirghiz  Abdurrahman  Dacha 
was  sent  by  Hakim  to  Tash-kurgan  to  make  terms  of  peace, 
but  was  killed  by  the  Tajiks.  Hakim  Khan  Tura  then  led 
his  force  to  Chakker-aghil,  at  the  opening  of  the  Ghez  valley. 
While  waiting  there,  Kurushi  Dacha,  Beg  Bulat’s  brother, 
learned  that  the  Chinese  intended  to  put  to  death  all  who 
had  participated  in  the  revolt,  unless  they  gave  up  Hakim. 
Kurushi  thereupon  deserted  his  leader  and  went  to  the  Little 
Kara-kul.  He  was  then  ordered  by  the  Chinese  to  attack 
Hakim  at  Muji,  and  did  so.  Hakim  fled  across  the  Kizil-art 


4-2 


THROUGH  ASIA 


pass,  and  many  of  his  men  fell.  Beg  Bulat  continued  to 
command  the  remnant  of  the  Kirghiz  forces.  But  they,  too, 
were  scattered,  and  Beg  Bulat  retired  to  Rang-kul,  while  his 
brother  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Chinese  and  beheaded  in 
Kashgar.  Beg  Bulat,  fearing  a similar  fate,  fled  to  Ak-baital, 
but  was  followed  by  fifty  Chinese  horsemen,  who  came  up 
with  him  at  that  place  and  captured  him,  and  took  him  and 
his  family  through  Kashgar  to  Turfan.  There  he  lived  in 
exile  for  nine  years;  but  the  beg  of  Turfan,  who  was  a Mo- 
hammedan, let  him  be  at  large,  and  allowed  him  to  engage  in 
trade  undisturbed.  As  he  invariably  conducted  himself  well, 
the  Chinese  authorities  eventually  not  only  permitted  him  to 
return  to  his  own  country,  but,  valuing  his  abilities,  offered 
him  the  appointment  of  beg  of  the  eastern  Pamirs.  But  he 
refused  it,  saying  that  he  would  not  serve  a people  who  had 
killed  his  brother.  After  that  the  Russians  entered  the 
Pamirs.  At  the  time  of  mv  visit  old  Be"  Bulat  was  livin" 
at  Rang-kul  in  poverty  and  obscurity. 

Thus  we  used  to  talk,  often  till  late  in  the  night,  while  the 
blue  flames  played  about  the  glowing  embers  of  the  camp-fire, 
dimly  lighting  the  interior  of  the  tent,  so  that  the  rugged 
features  of  the  bearded  men  seated  round  on  the  carpets 
could  hardly  be  distinguished.  I do  not  know  whether  the 
Kirghiz  parted  from  me  with  regret,  for  living  amid  a cold, 
niggardly,  unyielding  climate,  the  hearts  that  beat  in  their 
breasts  are  hard  and  unsympathetic,  and  unresponsive  to  the 
warmer  feelings.  Yet  many  a friendly  Hos/i  !''  (PArewell  I) 
Khoda  yoll  verstin  !"  (God  prepare  the  way!),  and  ^'Alla/iu 
akhbai' !"  (God  is  Great!)  followed  me  when  I went  away  ; 
and  they  stood  a long  time  on  the  shore  of  Little  Kara-kul 
watchin"  my  caravan  with  wondering  eyes ; and  when  I left 
their  hospitable  country  for  the  last  time,  no  doubt  many  of 
them  thought  within  themselves : “ Whence  cometh  he  ? and 
whither  "oeth  he.^  and  what  wanted  he  here 


\ 

\ 

I 

1 

/ 


A YOUNG  WIFE  OF  THE  KARA-TEIT  TRIBE  OF  KIRGHIZ 


VW 


CHAP'lER  XXXIV 


RETURN  TO  RASH  OAR 

On  October  9th  we  marched  to  tlie  aul  of  'ruya-kiiyruk 
(12,740  feet),  and  the  next  day  continued  up  the  valley  of  the 
Ike-bel-su,  whose  volume  was  now  reduced  to  70  or  <So  cubic 
feet  in  the  second,  very  different  from  the  foaming  river  we 
saw  during  the  summer.  Upon  reaching  the  enormous  and 
imposing  glacier  of  Kok-sel  we  struck  off  to  the  left,  pursuing 
a zigzag  course  up  the  steep  slopes  on  the  right  side  of  the 
valley,  which  consisted  partly  of  solid  gneiss  and  partly  of 
fragments  of  rock  fallen  from  the  heights  above.  That  even- 
ing we  reached  the  aul  of  Tur-bulung,  the  inhabitants  of 
which  were  on  the  point  of  changing  their  quarters  to  the 
Little  Kara-kul ; for  the  winters  are  extremely  raw  and  se- 
vere at  Tur-bulung,  and  snow-storms  of  daily  occurrence. 
Wolves,  foxes,  and  bears  were  common  in  the  same  locality. 

On  the  night  of  October  i ith,  when  we  stopped  at  the  aul, 
there  was  an  unusually  high  wind,  and  the  Kirghiz  contin- 
ually lighted  torches  and  held  them  up  to  the  smoke-vent, 
crying  Allahu  akhbar !'  in  order  to  ward  off  the  wind. 
Every  time  an  extra  violent  gust  came,  they  all  leaped  up 
and  laid  hold  of  the  tent,  although  it  was  already  well  secured 
with  ropes  and  stones.  All  the  same,  we  managed  to  make 
an  excursion  to  the  Kara-yilga,  where  the  luxuriant  pasture 
attracted  numbers  of  wild  goats  and  arkharis  or  wild  sheep 
{Ovis  Poll).  Islam  Bai  shot  one  of  the  latter  on  a glacier ; 
but  unfortunately  the  animal  fell  down  a crevasse  and  could 
not  be  got  up  again. 

On  the  1 2th  we  rode  across  the  Merkeh-bel  pass,  of  evil 
repute.  The  incline  from  the  west  was  not  particularly  steep; 
but  the  snow  was  nearly  16  inches  deep.  It  was  a curious 


426 


THROUGH  ASIA 


pass;  the  summit  broad  and  dome-shaped,  covered  with  a 
thin  glacier  tongue,  over  which  we  rode  for  a mile  and  a 
quarter.  The  adjacent  mountains  were  relatively  low;  those 
to  the  right  (the  south)  entirely  sheathed  in  ice,  those  to  the 
north  being  either  bare  cr)’stalline  rocks  of  a black  color  or 
sprinkled  with  thin  patches  of  snow.  The  east  side,  however, 
was  inconceivably  steep,  consisting  of  a moraine  littered  with 
fairly  large  fragments  of  rock  and  layers  of  schist  with  sharp 
points  and  edges.  There  I found  it  advisable  to  walk,  for  the 
horses  continually  threatened  to  come  down  on  their  knees. 
Fortunately,  this  time  we  had  hired  yaks  to  carry  our  bag- 
gage. By  degrees  the  declivity  became  less  steep,  and  we 
got  down  to  the  valley  of  Merkeh  without  further  incident, 
and  encamped  in  a solitary  yurt  at  an  altitude  of  11,780 
feet. 

The  following  days  we  travelled  at  a good  speed  down 
towards  the  plains  of  East  Turkestan.  In  the  glens  on  the 
east  side  it  was  snowing  steadily;  and  on  October  13th  there 
was  a high  wind  into  the  bargain,  so  that  we  rode  through 
driving  snow  the  whole  day.  The  stream  that  traversed  the 
Merkeh  valley,  being  augmented  by  a number  of  tributaries 
from  a series  of  small  side-glens,  had  excavated  a deep  chan- 
nel through  the  conglomerate  terraces,  along  which  we  were 
often  obliged  to  ride 

The  bottom  of  the  stream  was  encumbered  with  large 
fragments  of  gneiss  and  clay-slate.  At  Sughet  (9890  feet), 
which  derives  its  name  from  the  willows  that  grow  there, 
the  tents  were  deeply  embedded  in  the  snow ; but  the  chief 
Togda  Mohammed  Bai  had  a friendly  reception  for  us. 

On  October  14th  we  marched  to  Chatt,  the  camp  of  Mo- 
hammed Too:da  Be",  chief  of  the  Eastern  Kir"hiz.  On  the 
way  thither  we  passed  the  Kara-tash -yilga,  traversed  by  the 
stream  that  comes  down  from  the  pass  of  Kara-tash.  The 
following  day’s  march  took  us  over  a secondary  pass,  Ged- 
yack-belez  (13,040  feet),  with  a soft  rounded  summit,  com- 
posed of  slippery  yellow  clay  or  fine  schistose  gravel. 
Through  the  adjacent  glens  floated  detached  clouds  of  im- 
penetrable mist. 


ri-:tl;rx  to  kasik;ar 


427 

Our  camping-station  for  the  night  bore  the  curious  name 
of  Sarik-kiss  (the  \’ello\v  Maiden). 

.After  leaving,  on  the  16th,  the  entrance  to  the  glen  of 
Keng-kol  on  our  right,  we  were  once  more  in  a well-known 
district,  and  that  evening  jiut  uj)  at  Ighiz-yar,  in  the  same 
carav’anserai  in  which  we  had  stayed  before.  I was  very 
pleased  to  lay  aside  my  cumbrous,  heavy  winter  clothing, 
which  the  mild  air  now  made  sui)erfluous.  And  how  good 
were  the  fruit  and  the  Kashgar  bread  and  eggs  which  we  had 
for  dinner ! 

On  October  19th  I once  more  to(jk  j)ossession  of  my  room 
at  the  consulate  at  Kashgar,  delighted  to  see  the  i>ile  of 
newspapers  and  letters  which  had  accumulated  during  the 
course  of  the  summer. 

I now  settled  down  at  the  house  of  my  old  friend  Consul- 
( General  Petrovsky,  and  was  able  to  enjoy  a j)eriod  of  much- 
needed  rest.  W'e  spent  the  long  autumn  evenings,  as  before, 
by  the  fireside,  discussing  many  an  important  Asiatic  j)rob- 
lem.  I will  not  dwell  upon  my  reminiscences  of  Kashgar, 
e.xcept  a couple  of  incidents  which  I must  mention.  My  first 
care  was  to  arrange  and  label  my  geological  sjiecimens  from 
the  Mus- tagh  - ata,  and  to  develop  the  photographs  I had 
taken.  After  that  I wrote  a few  scientific  papers  on  the 
work  of  the  summer. 

In  the  beginning  of  November  a breath  of  air  from  PAirope 
penetrated  to  our  lonely  colony  in  the  far  east.  Mr.  Kobeko, 
a privy  councillor,  who  was  making  a tour  of  inspection 
through  Russian  Turkestan,  arrived  in  Kashgar.  He  was  a 
pleasant,  refined,  and  well-read  man,  and  during  the  week  he 
stayed  with  us  the  days  flew  past  more  quickly  than  usual. 
I shall  never  forget  the  evening  of  November  6th,  the  anni- 
versary of  the  day  on  which  the  great  Gustavus  Adolphus 
died.  We  were  all  sitting  round  the  large  drawing-room 
table,  tea-glass  in  hand,  talking  politics,  and  discussing  the 
future  of  East  Turkestan,  to  the  crackling  of  the  fire  and  the 
singing  of  the  samovar — when  a breathless  Cossack  courier 
entered  the  room  without  knocking,  and  going  up  to  Mr. 
Kobeko  handed  him  a telegram  from  Gulja,  the  last  station 


428 


THROUGH  ASIA 


of  the  Russian  telegraph  system.  It  contained  news  of  the 
death  of  the  Emperor  Alexander  HI.  All  present  rose  to 
their  feet,  and  the  Orthodox  Russians  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross.  Deep  sorrow  was  depicted  on  every  countenance,  and 
for  a long  time  there  was  a dead  silence  in  the  room.  It  had 
only  taken  the  short  space  of  five  days  for  the  sad  news  to 
penetrate  into  the  very  heart  of  Asia. 

The  day  after  the  arrival  of  the  telegram  the  Dao  Tai  and 
Tsen  Daloi  came  to  offer  their  condolences  to  Consul  Petrov- 
sky. With  their  many-colored  ceremonial  costumes,  their 
gongs  and  drums,  their  parasols  and  standards,  and  with  all 
their  pomp  and  state,  they  presented  a strange  contrast  to 
the  silent  sorrow  of  the  Russians, 

The  result  of  the  violent  changes  of  climate  that  I had  been 
exposed  to  was  an  attack  of  fever,  which  came  on  in  the  mid- 
dle of  November,  and  kept  me  a prisoner  in  bed  for  a month. 

Another  misfortune  overtook  me  in  the  Russian  bath,  to 
which  I went  accompanied  by  two  Cossacks  and  Islam  Bai. 
The  bath  was  heated  and  everything  arranged;  but  after  I 
had  been  in  a considerable  time,  the  Cossacks  imagined  that 
I ought  to  have  had  enough  of  it,  and  came  to  see  what  I 
was  doing.  On  their  entrance  they  found  that  I had  fainted. 
Some  pipe  in  the  heating  apparatus  had  sprung  a leak,  and 
the  fumes  nearly  did  for  me.  The  men  took  me  to  my  room 
at  once,  and  I gradually  came  round ; but  for  two  days  after- 
wards I had  a splitting  headache. 

Then  came  Christmas,  Christmas  ! What  a host  of  mem- 
ories, of  regrets,  of  hopes,  lie  in  that  one  word ! Yes,  it  was 
Christmas  in  Kashgar.  The  snow  fell  softly,  but  evaporated 
immediately  in  the  arid  atmosphere,  so  that  it  did  not  even 
make  the  ground  white.  There  was  a sound  of  bells  in  the 
streets  and  market-place;  but  they  were  caravan  bells  and 
rang;  all  the  vear  round.  The  stars  shone  brightlv  in  the 
sky;  but  not  with  the  same  magic  brilliance  as  those  of  our 
northern  winter  nig;hts.  A light  twinkled  here  and  there  in 
the  windows  of  the  houses;  but  they  were  not  Christmas 
candles  swinging  on  the  fir  branches,  only  lamps  fed  with 
Kanjut  oil,  as  simple  as  in  the  time  of  Christ  Himself. 


RHTIM^N  TO  KASHGAR 


429 


Could  there  be  a more  suitable  j^erson  to  ]5ay  a visit  to  on 
this  holy-tide  than  the  Swedish  missionary,  Mr.  Hogberg,  who 
had  come  to  Kashgar  with  his  family  during  the  summer.^ 
Mr.  Macartney,  the  English  agent,  and  bather  Hendricks 
went  with  me,  and  we  took  a few  small  presents  for  Mr, 
Hdgbcrg’s  little  girl.  The  time-worn  lessons  for  the  day 
were  read,  and  the  Christmas  psalm  was  sung  to  an  accom- 
paniment on  the  harmonium,  d'hen  in  the  darkness  of  Christ- 
mas hive  b'ather  Hendricks  and  I strolled  round  to  Mr.  Ma- 
cartney's house,  where  mulled  wine  and  Christmas  cheer 
awaited  us.  But  shortly  before  midnight  Father  Hendricks 
went  away;  nor  could  we  persuade  him  to  stay  longer.  He 
was  going  home  to  his  lonely  cabin  in  the  Hindu  caravan- 
serai, and  on  the  stroke  of  twelve  would  read  the  Christmas 
mass,  alone,  alone,  always  alone! 

On  Januarv  5th,  1895,  George  Littledale,  with  his 

undaunted  wife,  and  a relative,  Mr.  Fletcher,  arrived  at  Kash- 
gar, and  I spent  many  a pleasant  hour  in  their  company. 
Mr.  Littledale  was  unusually  genial,  manly,  and  unassuming 
in  character,  and  I esteemed  it  a great  ])Hvilege  thus  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  one  of  the  most  intrepid  and  able  of  liv- 
incT  Asiatic  travellers.  He  himself  regarded  his  own  travels 
with  a critical  eye,  was  always  modest,  and  had  no  preten- 
sions. He  said  that  he  travelled  simply  for  pleasure,  for 
sport,  and  because  the  active,  changing  life  was  more  to  his 
taste  than  the  gayeties  of  London.  But  with  the  journey  he 
began  in  the  year  1S95  he  has  written  his  name  indelibly  in 
the  annals  of  Asiatic  exploration,  by  the  side  of  those  of  his 
distinguished  countrymen,  Younghusband  and  Bower. 

In  the  middle  of  January  our  English  friends  left  Kashgar 
in  four  large  arbas  (carts)  draped  with  carpets ; and  an  impos- 
ing sight  they  made  as  they  drove  out  of  Mr.  Macartney’s 
yard.  They  equipped  their  large  caravan  in  Cherchen,  and 
thence  crossed  Tibet  from  north  to  south. 

At  the  same  time  we  heard  with  dismay  of  Dutreuil  de 
Rhins’s  sad  end.  He  was  attacked  and  murdered  in  the 
summer  of  the  same  year  at  Tam-buddha.  The  news  was 
brought  by  four  of  his  men,  who  had  returned  to  Kashgar. 


430 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Then  came  the  Russian  Christmas,  twelve  days  after  ours, 
and  the  consulate  became  busy  and  animated  again.  Cossack 
waits  woke  me  up  with  plaintive  songs  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing, and  in  the  consul’s  house  there  were  great  festivities. 

It  was  a great  pleasure  to  me,  on  my  return  to  Kashgar,  to 
meet  a fellow-countryman  in  the  person  of  the  missionary, 
Mr.  Hogberg,  who  had  come  there  with  his  wife  and  little 
girl,  a Swedish  lady  missionary,  and  a converted  Persian,  one 
Mirza  Joseph.  In  the  first  place,  coming  there  at  all  with 
two  ladies  had  been  an  imprudence;  for  the  Mohammedans 
could  not  be  brought  to  believe  other  than  that  Mr.  Hog- 
berg had  two  wives.  But  when,  later  on,  Mirza  Joseph  mar- 
ried the  Swedish  lady  missionary,  the  prospects  of  the  mis- 
sion in  that  town  were  destroyed  for  many  a year  to  come ; 
for  in  the  eyes  of  the  people  of  Kashgar  Mirza  Joseph  was 
still  a Mohammedan,  and  such,  according  to  the  Koran,  are 
forbidden  to  choose  their  wives  from  among  an  unbelieving 
people,  I gladly  pass  over  the  construction  put  upon  this 
marriage  and  the  unpleasantness  it  caused,  but  to  many  in 
Kashgar  it  afforded  a painful  illustration  of  the  way  in  which 
missionary  work  is  often  mismanaged,  and  how  lightly  mis- 
sionaries take  the  grave  responsibilities  which  they  have  vol- 
untarily incurred. 

When  Mr.  Hogberg  found  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to 
begin  an  active  propaganda  at  once,  he  wisely  restricted  Ins 
energries  to  the  manufacture  of  various  common  household 

O 

articles,  such  as  the  people  of  Kashgar  would  find  useful,  and 
such  as  they  made  themselves  in  a very  primitive  fashion. 
For  instance,  he  constructed  a capital  machine  for  the  treat- 
ment of  raw  silk,  to  say  nothing  of  spinning-wheels,  bellows, 
etc, — all  c.xtremely  well  made  and  a source  of  admiration  and 
astonishment  to  the  natives. 

It  was  always  a pleasure  to  meet  him  and  his  wife ; for,  like 
all  the  other  missionaries  with  whom  I have  come  in  con- 
tact, they  were  kind  and  hospitable  jieople,  and  looked  at  the 
future  from  the  bright  side.  One  cannot  but  resjject  people 
who  labor  for  their  faith  in  the  light  of  honest  con\  iction,  de- 
spite the  errors  of  judgment  they  may  fall  into. 


ACROSS  THK  TAKLA-MAKAN  DESERT 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


'I'O  MARAL-HASHI 

At  eleven  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  I'ebriiary  17th,  1895, 
I,  together  with  Islam  Hai,  the  missionary  Johannes,  and 
Hashim  Akhun,  set  off  to  travel  eastward  to  Maral-bashi. 

Our  caravan  consisted  of  two  large  arbas  or  arabas  on  high 
iron-rimmed  wheels,  each  drawn  by  four  horses.  The  straw 
roof  of  the  first,  in  which  I drove  with  Johannes,  was  lined 
on  the  inside  with  a kighiz  (felt  carpet),  and  the  opening  at 
the  back  was  also  closed  with  felts,  to  keep  out  the  dust  as 
much  as  possible.  The  bottom  of  the  arba  was  covered  with 
felts,  cushions,  and  furs,  to  make  a soft,  comfortable  seat;  but 
over  the  bad  roads  the  vehicle  jolted  to  such  an  extent  that 
we  might  as  well  have  been  on  a rough  sea,  and  the  noise  it 
made  was  deafening.  The  owner  of  the  vehicles  accompanied 
us ; and  each  team  had  its  own  driver,  with  a long  whip,  who 
sometimes  walked  by  the  side,  sometimes  sat  on  one  of  the 
shafts,  and  whistled.  In  the  other  arba  were  Islam  and 
Hashim,  together  with  all  my  baggage;  and  our  two  dogs, 
Yolldash  and  Hamrah,  were  tied  under  my  cart.  The  two 
arbas  creaked  and  groaned  along  the  highway,  by  the  side  of 
the  west  wall  of  the  town,  till  we  came  to  Kum-darvaseh  (the 
Sand  Gate),  whence  it  was  nearly  two  h'ours  to  Yanghi-shahr, 
the  Chinese  quarter  of  Kashgar.  There  we  had  a ridiculous 
adventure. 

A Chinese  soldier  rushed  out  on  us,  stopped  the  horses, 
and  declared  that  Hamrah  was  his  dog.  A large  crowd 
quickly  gathered  round  the  carts.  I gave  orders  to  drive 
on.  But  the  man  shouted  and  gesticulated,  and  finallv  threw 
himself  on  the  ground  under  the  wheels,  declaring  that  the 
dog  was  his,  and  demanding  that  he  should  be  given  up  to 

" I.— 28 


434 


THROUGH  ASIA 


him.  To  pacify  the  fellow,  I agreed  that  Hamrah  should 
be  let  loose  and  kept  back.  If  he  then  followed  the  China- 
man, the  dog  was  his ; but  if  he  followed  us,  he  was  ours. 
No  sooner  was  the  dog  untied,  than  he  set  off  as  fast  as  his 
legs  could  carry  him  along  the  road,  and  disappeared  in  a 
cloud  of  dust.  The  valorous  Chinaman  looked  very  much 
crestfallen,  and  slunk  away  amid  roars  of  laughter  from  the 
crowd. 

The  day  was  dull  and  cold  and  disagreeable ; the  sky 
gloomy  ; the  air  still,  but  filled  with  a thick  dust-haze,  which 
obscured  the  view.  A dense  cloud  of  dust,  caused  by  the 
great  amount  of  traffic  which  passed  up  and  down,  hung  in 
the  willows  that  lined  the  road. 

At  this  season  of  the  year  the  Kizil-su  had  hardly  any  cur- 
rent; what  little  there  was  was  frozen  under  the  double 
bridge.  After  passing  it  we  turned  to  the  east,  and  thus  had 
the  river  on  our  left.  It  was  nine  o’clock  at  night  when  we 
reached  the  village  of  Yaman-yar  (the  Miserable  Place),  hav- 
ing driven  the  last  two  or  three  hours  in  pitch  darkness. 
We  ourselves  turned  in  in  a rest-house,  but  the  two  araba- 
keshes  (arba  drivers)  slept  each  in  his  own  vehicle,  so  as  to 
protect  my  baggage  against  thieves. 

On  PTbruary  i8th  we  drove  through  a number  of  small 
villages  as  far  as  Faizabad  (the  Abode  of  Blessedness),  the 
chief  town  on  the  road  between  Maral-bashi  and  Kashgar. 
It  happened  to  be  bazaar -day,  and  the  narrow  streets  were 
thronged  with  an  unusually  busy  crowd,  resplendent  in  color. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  neifjhboring  villages  resort  to  the 
place  once  a week  to  lay  in  a supply  of  provisions.  On  the 
way  thither  we  met  or  overtook  numbers  of  wayfarers,  some 
on  foot,  some  on  horseback,  conveying  to  market  various 
kinds  of  country  produce,  such  as  sheep,  goats,  poultry,  fruit, 
hay,  fuel,  wooden  household  utensils,  etc.  The  long  bazaar 
echoed  with  the  shouting  and  din  of  the  multitude,  as  they 
pushed  their  way  uj)  and  down  it,  squabbling  with  the  stall- 
keepers,  while  the  vendors  vociferously  cried  up  their  wares, 
livery  now  and  again  we  met  women,  in  large  round  caps 
and  white  veils,  Chinamen  dressed  from  top  to  toe  in  blue. 


TO  MARAL-BASHI 


435 


clonkev  caravans  slowly  forcing  their  way  through  the  throng. 
The  j)lace  was  as  lively  as  an  ant-heap. 

At  each  end  of  the  bazaar  there  was  a gate  closed  with 
wooden  doors;  but  the  town  was  unwalled.  Counting  the 
outlying  farms,  the  place  numbered  between  700  and  800 
houses  or  families.  The  greater  part  of  the  ])opulation  were 
Sarts  (Jagatai  Turks);  though  Dungans  were  also  numerous, 
and  there  were  a few  Chinese  colonists.  The  town  produced 
rice,  cotton,  wheat,  and  other  cereals,  melons,  apples,  pears, 
grapes,  cucumbers,  and  various  sj)ecies  of  vegetables. 

Februarv  19th.  .After  leaving  Faizabad  we  entered  a dead 
level  plain,  grayish  yellow,  and  of  a monotonously  barren  ajj- 
pearance,  covered  with  dry,  finely  powdered  dust,  which  blew 
up  at  the  slightest  breath  of  wind.  The  dust  penetrated 
evervwhere,  searching  into  our  furs,  into  everything  we  had 
inside  the  cart,  and  collected  in  thick  layers  on  the  roof.  We 
covered  the  cart  with  the  tent -felts,  to  try  and  protect  our- 
selves a little,  letting  the  folds  hang  down  in  front  as  far  as 
was  possible  without  shutting  out  the  view.  The  dust  was 
so  thick  and  deep  that  it  was  like  driving  over  a vast  feather- 
bed, and  the  wheels  of  the  arbas  were  almost  sucked  down 
into  it.  Our  progress,  heavily  laden  as  we  were,  was  neces- 
sarily very  slow.  When  walking,  the  whole  foot  sank  into 
the  dust  at  every  step,  and  the  track  you  left  behind  you  was 
nothing  more  than  a series  of  “ caved  in  ” dimples.  The  un- 
fortunate horses  strained  at  their  traces  with  all  their  might, 
till  the  sweat  ran  down  their  sides  ; they,  too,  were  smothered 
with  dust,  and  were  all  of  the  same  dirty-gray  color.  Three 
of  them  were  harnessed  side  by  side  in  front  and  pulled  by 
means  of  long  traces ; the  fourth  was  between  the  shafts. 
The  shaft-horse  balanced  the  cart,  which  had  to  be  properly 
packed,  so  as  not  to  press  upon  him  with  too  great  a strain. 
If  he  stumbled,  we  might  e.xpect  a shaking. 

Shortly  after  noon  we  rested  the  horses  for  four  hours  at 
the  caravanserai  of  Yanghi-abad  (the  New  Town).  In  the 
court-yard  there  were  a number  of  other  arbas,  loaded  with 
fuel  from  the  nearest  yangal  (forest).  Then  we  drove  the 
whole  night,  from  five  in  the  evening  to  five  next  morning, 


436 


THROUGH  ASIA 


through  the  pitchy  darkness.  The  road  was  wretched  in  the 
extreme;  the  arbas  lurched  and  swayed  miserably.  But,  be- 
ing softly  bedded,  we  were  soon  rocked  to  sleep  in  our  cush- 
ions, furs,  and  felts. 

February  20th.  During  the  night  we  managed  to  lose 
ourselves,  for  the  arabakeshes  seized  the  opportunity  to  take 
an  occasional  nap.  After  a good  deal  of  hunting  about,  in 
the  course  of  which  we  were  overturned,  we  eventually  got 
back  into  the  right  track.  At  the  village  of  Kara-yulgun 
(the  Black  Tamarisk)  we  crossed  the  Kashgar- daria  by  a 
wooden  bridge.  Soon  after  that  we  passed  through  the  vil- 
lage of  Yaz-bulak  (the  Summer  Spring),  which  derives  its 
name  from  the  fact  that  in  summer  the  river  overflows  its 
banks  and  inundates  large  expanses  of  the  low,  flat  country 
on  each  side  of  it.  Even  at  that  season  of  the  year  there 
were  sheets  of  flood  - water  still  remaining,  although  frozen 
over,  and  in  them  grew  an  abundance  of  kamish  (reeds). 
During  the  warm  season  of  the  year  the  great  road  makes  a 
considerable  detour  to  avoid  these  inundated  parts.  About 
five  o’clock  we  arrived  at  a place  of  this  kind,  where  a frozen 
branch  of  the  river  stretched  right  across  the  road.  We  were 
going  at  full  speed,  till  down  went  the  leaders  on  the  slippery 
ice.  'I'here  was  a tremendous  crackling  and  splintering. 
I'he  ice  broke,  and  the  wheels  of  the  arba  went  through  to 
the  axle.  There  it  stuck,  as  if  fixed  in  a vice.  All  the  horses 
were  taken  out  and  harnessed  to  the  back  of  the  vehicle;  but 
it  cost  us  an  hour’s  hard  tuo-crinor  and  haulin<>’  before  we  sue- 

00  O O 

ceeded  in  righting  the  cart.  After  that  we  tried  another 
place.  My  arba  got  over  without  mishap;  but  one  wheel  of 
the  second  cut  like  a sharp  knife  into  the  ice,  making  it  hum 
and  whine  like  a steam -saw.  We  were  obliged  to  unload 

O 

the  baggage  and  carry  it  across.  As  the  weather  was  cold 
and  disagreeable,  Islam  Bai  made  me  a huge  fire  on  the 
bnnk,  while  the  others  were  working  away  to  get  the  arba 
across.  At  half  j)ast  one  in  the  morning  we  reached  the  vil- 
lage of  Ordeklik  (the  Dutch  \bllage),  and  there  baited  a 
while. 

h'ebruary  21st.  Just  beyond  the  station  we  entered  a thin 


ARMAS  (CARIS)  0\  IlIK  ROAD  I RO^r  KASIKiAR  'lo  M A R A I HASH  I 


ro  MARAL-HASm 


439 


|K)j)lar  forest,  which,  however,  gradually  became  thicker. 

The  road  was  in  some  j)laces  rather  deeply  trenched  in  the 
loess,  and  often  ran  between  low  conical  liills,  crowned  with 
tamarisk  and  other  bushes.  'I'he  court-yard  of  the  rest-house 
of  Tungan-masar  (the  Grave  of  the  Dungan  Saint)  was  sur- 
rounded bv  cart-sheds  on  j)iles,  with  a roof  made  of  twigs  and 
branches.  I'he  saint’s  grave  was  indicated  merely  by  a j)ole 
hung  with  tughs  or  offerings  of  rags.  W'e  encamped  for  the 
night  at  Kara-kurchin,  a good  way  from  the  river. 

February  aad.  We  drove  the  whole  day  through  a for- 
est, which  was  said  to  be  the  haunt  of  tigers,  wolves,  fo.xes, 
deer,  antelopes,  and  hares.  'I'he  station  of  Chyrgeh  was  rath- 
er more  than  four  miles  from  the  Kashgar-daria. 

I'hese  station  - houses,  with  their  stacks  of  hay  and  fuel, 
their  sheds  and  carts,  were  often  very  picturesque  and  full 
of  life  — cattle,  sheep,  cats,  dogs,  and  poultry.  Fggs,  milk, 
and  bread  were  obtainable  everywhere.  I'he  traffic  was 
mostly  carried  on  by  means  of  donkey  caravans,  convey- 
ing cotton,  tea,  carpets,  hides,  etc.,  between  Kashgar  and 
Ak-su. 

'Fhe  distance  between  the  two  places  is  about  340  miles, 
and  is  divided  into  eighteen  drying  {i.e.,  stages),  each  a day’s 
march  for  an  arba  or  a caravan.  I'he  Chinese  mails,  on  the 
other  hand,  are  carried  in  three  and  a half  days,  especially  if 
they  contain  documents  of  importance.  At  every  station 
there  is  a Chinese  post-superintendent  and  three  Mohamme- 
dan assistants,  one  of  whom  acts  as  servant  to  the  Chinese 
postmaster,  while  the  other  two  carry  the  mails.  The  mail- 
bags  are  only  taken  to  the  next  station,  whence  they  are  im- 
mediately conveyed  another  stage  by  another  man  on  horse- 
back. Every  station  keeps  ten  horses,  and  the  mails  are 
carried  quickly  and  punctually.  Since  the  Chinese  Govern- 
ment, at  the  suggestion  of  the  British  Government,  intro- 
duced telegraphic  communication,  the  old  postal  service  no 
longer  possesses  the  importance  it  used  to  have,  particularly 
between  Kashgar  and  Ak-su,  and  from  thence  to  Kara-shahr, 
Urumchi,  Khami,  Su-chow  (Su-chau),  and  Liang-chow-fu.  It 
was  strange  to  see  telegraph-posts  so  far  in  the  interior  of 


440 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Asia.  They  were  put  in  as  straight  a line  as  possible  and 
with  scrupulous  care.  When  the  Chinese  were  working  at 
them,  they  were  accompanied  by  an  army  of  Sarts,  with  ar- 
bas,  who  prov'ided  them  with  victuals  and  tools. 

b'chruary  23d.  The  forest  ceased  some  distance  before 
reaching  Maral-bashi.  From  the  point  where  it  did  cease 
the  road  was  bad,  and  the  country  bare  and  uninteresting. 
We  crossed  the  Kashgar-daria  a second  time,  at  a spot  where 
it  was  dry,  by  a small  wooden  bridge,  and  drove  past  the 
Chinese  fort  of  Maral  - bashi,  with  its  battlemented  walls  of 
kiln -made  bricks  and  small  towers  at  the  corners.  It  was 
said  to  have  a garrison  of  300  men.  The  chief  bazaar  of  the 
town,  which  ran  from  west  to  east,  was  very  long,  very 
straight,  and  very  dirty,  and  was  lined  with  the  shops  of  the 
Chinese  and  Sarts.  Off  it  opened  the  gates  of  the  caravan- 
serais. We  were  allowed  a couple  of  rooms  for  ourselves 
and  our  paraphernalia  in  a miserable  hovel. 

February  24th.  Maral-bashi,  together  with  the  neighbor- 
ing kishlaks,  was  said  to  amount  to  a thousand  households. 
'Fhe  town  is  also  called  Dolon,  and  in  certain  parts  of  East 
'I'urkestan — for  instance,  in  Yarkand — this  name  is  the  only 
one  in  use.  The  word  dolon  signifies  “ a wild  wooded  tract, 
without  villages,”  and  is  used  here  in  contrast  with  Kashgar 
and  Ak-su.  The  inhabitants,  who  are  proud  of  being  called 
Uolons,  have  the  same  language,  customs,  and  religion  as  the 
rest  of  the  population  of  East  Turkestan,  but  seem  to  be 
somewhat  differentiated  from  them,  in  that  they  approach 
more  nearly  to  the  pure  Uigur  type. 

I took  a walk  through  the  little  town,  which  is  not  of 
much  importance,  though,  like  I'aizabad,  it  has  two  small 
gates,  here  also  situated  at  each  end  of  the  bazaar,  and  called 
Kashgar-darvaseh  and  Ak-su-darvaseh  (the  Kashgar  gate  and 
the  Ak-su  gate).  There  were  two  jirincipal  mosques,  called 
Dolon  and  Mussafir,  with  simjjle  fa9ades  of  gray  clay,  and 
wooded  balconies  inside  the  court-yard.  The  former  was 
situated  near  the  .Ak-su-darvaseh,  and  outside  of  it  there  was 
a burial-ground  {oadris/an).  Here  we  came  uj)on  the  Kash- 
gar-daria, containing  a little  water  almost  stagnant ; and  from 


TO  MARAL-HASIII 


441 


it  ran  ariks  (irrigation  canals),  whicli  were  used  for  driving 
mills  situated  near  the  banks. 

W'e  went  to  look  at  one  of  these  mills  ; it  was  simply  a 
thatched  shed  resting  on  piles.  The  corn  was  ground  in  a 
corner  of  the  shed  between  horizontal  millstones,  brought 
from  Kashgar  at  the  cost  of  100  tengeh  {22s.  bd.)  each.  They 
can  be  used  for  about  five  years  before  being  worn  out.  Just 
at  that  time  maize  {konal:)  and  wheat  (doc^dai)  were  being 
ground.  The  miller’s  perquisite  was  one  - si.xteenth  of  the 
rioLir  ground,  and  he  could  grind  from  32  to  40  charccks 
(=  16  jings  or  24  lbs.  avoirdupois)  in  a day.  In  another  place 
rice  was  being  husked.  Raw  rice  before  being  husked  (paddy) 
is  called  shall ; whereas  pure  white  rice,  freed  from  its  awns, 
is  called  (^ryteh.  I'he  husking-mill  consisted  of  a water-wheel 
running  on  a horizontal  crank  and  driving  a couple  of  wooden 
hammers,  which  fitted  into  two  hollow  slanting  grooves,  in 
which  the  raw  rice,  or  paddy,  was  poured,  'fhe  rice  was 
freed  from  its  husks  and  awns  by  repeated  beatings  of  the 
hammers,  the  refuse  being  afterwards  sifted  away.  livery 
sackful  of  rice  was  put  three  times  through  the  mill,  h'or 
this  the  miller  got  a tithe  of  the  husked  rice,  and  he  could 
finish  15  charecks  in  the  day.  As  a chareck  of  rice  costs 
4 tengeh  in  Maral-bashi,  the  man  thus  earned  6 tengeh  (i.?. 
2^d.)  a day.  Large  quantities  of  rice,  maize,  and  wheat  are 
grown  in  the  neighborhood. 

In  the  morning  a Chinese  official  and  four  begs  came  to 
welcome  me  in  the  name  of  the  amban  (governor  of  the  town). 

I'he  begs  were  extremely  civil  and  communicative,  and  con- 
sidered that  my  plan  of  crossing  the  Takla-makan  Desert  was 
feasible.  They  told  me  that  there  once  existed  a large  town 
called  Takla-makan  in  the  desert  midway  between  the  Yar- 
kand-daria  and  the  Khotan-daria,  but  for  ages  it  had  been 
buried  in  the  sand.  The  whole  of  the  desert  was  now  known 
by  this  name,  although  it  was  sometimes  shortened  to  Takan. 
They  reported  further  that  the  interior  of  the  desert  was 
under  the  ban  of  kdesmat  (an  Arabic  word,  meaning  “witch- 
craft,”  “supernatural  powers”);  and  that  there  were  towers 
and  walls  and  houses,  and  heaps  of  gold  tacks  and  silver 


442 


THROUGH  ASIA 


janibaus  (tack  and  jambau  being  Chinese  coins).  If  a man 
went  there  with  a caravan  and  loaded  his  camels  with  gold, 
he  would  never  get  out  of  the  desert  again,  but  be  kept  there 
by  the  spirits.  In  that  case  there  was  only  one  way  by  which 
he  could  save  his  life,  and  that  was  by  throwing  away  the 
treasure.  The  begs  thought  that  if  I followed  the  Masar-tagh 
as  far  as  I possibly  could,  and  took  a supply  of  water  with  me, 
it  would  be  possible  to  cross  the  desert.  But  under  no  cir- 
cumstances could  horses  cross  it;  they  would  certainly  die. 


CHAl’IKR  XXXVI 


AN  FA'CTRSION  TO  THK  MASAR-TAGH 

Fehkl'arv  25TII.  I*'rom  Maral-bashi  1 made  an  excursion 
to  the  Masar-tagh,  a mountain-range  a day’s  journey  to  the 
east  of  the  town.  Only  one  driver,  Islam  Hai,  and  Volldash 
were  of  the  party,  and  the  lightly  laden  arba  carried  us  swiftly 
along  the  road.  .After  a couple  of  hours’  driving  the  mountain 
became  visible  through  the  dust-haze,  as  a somewhat  darker 
background,  with  a serrated  crest.  W’e  turned  off  to  the 
right  from  the  high-road  to  .\k-su  and  struck  across  a hard, 
barren  steppe  with  thinly  scattered  tussocks  of  grass.  Then 
we  passed  between  two  spurs  of  the  mountain.  The  one  on 
the  right,  which  was  larger  than  the  other,  was  a wild,  rugged 
highland  region,  exhibiting  proofs  of  severe  weathering  and 
of  the  erosive  power  of  the  wind.  Its  rock  was  a species  of 
light-green  crystalline  schist.  At  the  base  of  the  mountains 
there  was  sufficient  grass  for  a few  small  kishlaks  (winter 
pasture). 

Not  far  from  the  northeast  foot  of  the  mountain  stood  the 
Ullug-masar  (tin-  Great  Tomb),  surrounded  by  a gra)'  wall  of 
sun  - dried  bricks.  The  first  place  we  entered  was  a large 
square  court-yard,  in  which  a ring  of  long  sticks  were  thrust 
into  the  ground  round  a bush.  Both  sticks  and  bush  were 
hung  with  flags  and  pennons,  some  white  with  red  edges, 
others  entirely  red  or  blue;  others  again  were  three-tongued, 
with  vandyked  edges,  and  so  on.  Thence  a door  led  into  a 
khanekah,  or  prayer- house,  the  floor  of  which  was  covered 
with  carpets.  At  the  far  end  there  was  an  open  w'ood-work 
screen,  and  behind  it  the  tomb  of  the  saint,  marked  by  an 
ordinary  tombstone,  in  a square,  dark  room  decorated  with 
flags,  tughs  (rags),  deers’  antlers,  and  the  horns  of  wild  sheep. 


444 


THROUGH  ASIA 


The  shrine,  together  with  its  gumbez  (dome),  was  built  of 
kiln-burnt  bricks,  and  was  visited  every  Friday  by  pilgrims 
from  the  neighborhood.  In  the  outer  court  there  was  an 
as/ibazkhaneh,  or  kitchen,  where  they  cook  their  food. 

We  took  up  our  quarters  in  a hospitable  house  in  the 
kishlak  of  Masar  - alldi  (in  front  of  the  Saint's  Tomb),  and 
were  at  once  visited  by  the  dignitaries  of  the  place.  I got  a 
good  deal  of  valuable  information  out  of  them.  For  instance, 
they  told  me  that  in  that  part  of  its  course  the  Yarkand-daria 
was  divided  into  two  arms,  and  went  on  to  describe  three 
very  large  lakes  situated  in  the  neighborhood,  which  not 
only  increased  in  size  when  the  river  was  in  flood,  but  also 
abounded  in  fish.  I was  especially  interested  to  learn  that 
the  Masar-tagh  continued  in  a southeasterly  direction  through 
the  desert  as  far  as  the  Khotan-daria,  though  the  information 
seemed,  on  the  whole,  to  be  doubtful,  as  none  of  the  men  had 
themselves  seen  how  far  the  mountains  e.xtended  into  the 
desert. 

Some  of  them  called  the  desert  Dekken-dekka,  because 
a thousand  and  one  towns  are  said  to  be  buried  under  its 
wastes  of  sand.  Moreover,  vast  stores  of  silver  and  gold 
might  be  found  in  them.  It  was  possible  to  reach  them  with 
camels;  and  probably  water  would  be  found  in  the  depres- 
sions. 

February  26th.  It  was  now  my  object  to  obtain  a general 
idea  of  the  Masar-tagh.  Accordingly  we  took  a guide  and 
drove  along  their  eastern  foot  in  the  arba,  having  on  our  left 
a marsh  shut  in  by  barren  sand-hills.  After  a three  hours’ 
drive  we  reached  the  Kodai-daria(the  Swan  River),  the  northern 
branch  of  the  Yarkand-daria,  a good  hundred  and  twenty 
yards  broad,  and  covered  with  soft  ice,  which  bore  men  on 
foot  but  broke  under  the  weight  of  the  arba.  The  boat  which 
the  Dolons  used  when  the  river  was  high  was  frozen  fast  in 
the  ice.  In  summer,  when  the  river  is  in  flood,  enormous 
volumes  of  water  flow  through  both  branches,  causing  them 
to  overflow  and  unite  into  a lake-like  e.xpansion,  while  at  the 
same  time  considerable  stretches  of  the  woods  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  river  become  half  inundated. 


AN  i:XCURSlC)N  TO  TUE  M ASAR-TACill  445 


In  the  beginning  of  April  a large  number  of  Dolons  resort 
thither  with  their  flocks,  and  there  spend  half  the  year  in  the 
woods,  dwelling  in  reed  huts  erected  in  situations  where  they 
are  safe  from  inundation.  'I'hese  summer  camps,  some  of 
which  still  remained  lu  si/ii,  are  called  yeyliks.  I hus  the 
Dolons  may  be  said  to  be  semi-nomads, 

W hen  I could  get  no  farther  with  the  arba,  1 mounted  a 
horse,  and  taking  one  man  with  me,  rode  over  the  Masar-tagh 
by  a very  difficult  pass,  and  then  proceeded  along  the  western 
foot  of  the  mountain,  till  I came  to  the  reedy  Shor-kul  (Salt 
Lake),  which,  however,  contained  perfectly  fresh  water  and 
swarmed  with  wild  ireese.  'Fhe  mountain  was  built  of  a 

O 

species  of  coarse-grained  crujitive  rock,  encumbered  all  along 
its  base  with  fallen  fragments  of  stone,  which  were  polished 
and  carved  by  the  wind  into  grotescpie,  saucer-like  hollows, 
overtop))ed  bv  rounded  masses  j)oised  on  narrow  stalks  or 
pedestals.  The  Shor-kul,  which  lay  parallel  to  the  left  bank 
of  the  Yarkand-daria,  was  a typical  fiuvial  lagoon.  It  owed 
its  origin  to  the  gradual  deposit  of  sediment  in  the  bed  of  the 
river,  lifting  the  current  above  its  banks  until  it  overflowed 
on  to  the  lower  lying  country  on  each  side. 

W'e  returned  to  camp  by  way  of  the  Ullug-masar.  I'he 
Masar-tagh  we  found  consists  of  crystalline  schist,  porphyry, 
and  a species  of  rock  resembling  sienite.  It  stands  like  a 
ruin  in  the  angle  between  the  Kashgar-daria  and  the  Yar- 
kand-daria,  and  is  itself  looked  upon  as  a masar  or  saint’s 
tomb. 

February  27th.  We  now  returned,  in  a north-northeast 
direction,  to  the  great  Ak-su  road,  which  we  struck  at  Char- 
bagh  (the  Four  Gardens).  Once  more  we  crossed  the  Kash- 
gar-daria, or  rather  the  numerous  branches  into  which  it  was 
there  divided,  each  spanned  by  a small  wooden  bridge.  Soon 
after  that  the  hill  of  Akhur-masar-tagh  loomed  out  through 
the  dust-laden  atmosphere,  one  of  its  projecting  spurs  crowned 
with  the  masar  Hazrett-Ali.  There  had  been  some  wind  in 
the  morning  from  the  east ; but  towards  mid-day  it  came  on 
to  blow  rather  strongly,  enveloping  everything  in  an  impene- 
trable dust-haze,  while  clouds  of  dust  hung  along  the  road  in 


446 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  track  of  our  arbas.  Every  now  and  then  we  caught  a 
glimpse  of  trees  and  bushes,  of  houses  and  villages,  looking 
as  though  they  were  covered  with  dirty  water.  There  were 
but  few  travellers  on  the  road  in  such  weather. 

Mount  Tumshuk,  which  sent  out  four  spurs  towards  the 
north,  now  came  into  view.  On  its  steep  slopes,  built  up  like 
the  seats  in  an  amphitheatre,  but  clinging  to  the  naked  rock 
like  swallows’  nests,  were  a number  of  ruined  houses  and 
walls,  ascendino;  as  hiofh  as  6o  to  8o  feet  above  the  level 
ground.  Two  different  periods  of  architecture  were  plainly 
distinguishable.  The  houses  of  the  older  period  were  built 
of  burned  bricks,  while  those  of  the  later  period  were  con- 
structed of  sun-dried  clay.  On  the  level  ground,  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountain,  there  were  also  a great  many  ruins.  All 
these  are  the  remains  of  an  old  city,  which  was  no  doubt  pro- 
tected bv  a citadel  crowning  the  mountain  behind.  The 
region  is  now  sterile  and  uninhabited;  changes  in  the  chan- 
nel of  the  Kashgar-daria  having  in  all  probability  led  to  the 
desertion  of  the  town. 

February  28th.  One  hour  northwest  of  the  station  Tum- 
shuk lay  another  collection  of  ruins  known  as  Eski-shahr  (the 
Old  City).  These,  too,  I visited.  The  best-preserved  building 
was  a square  structure,  each  of  its  sides  ten  yards  long,  built 
true  to  the  four  cardinal  points,  and  with  a doorway  to  the 
east.  It  was  constructed  of  hard-burned  bricks,  and  had  prob- 
ably been  a mosque.  The  corners  in  the  interior  were  dec- 
orated with  friezes  in  relief.  The  doorway,  too,  was  embel- 
lished with  ornamental  brick-work,  and  perhaps  in  its  day  had 
been  covered  with  tiles. 

I'here  was  a hill  in  the  vicinity,  from  which  two  parallel 
ridges  projected  towards  the  northwest;  there  we  discovered 
the  ruins  of  former  stone  walls.  The  style  of  architecture 
was  Mohammedan  ; accordingly  these  archaeological  remains 
could  not  date  back  more  than  1 150  years. 

I'he  storm  still  continued.  About  mid-day  the  sun  was 
darkened,  as  when  a thunder-storm  threatens;  sand  and  dust 
whirled  along  the  ground,  and  rose  in  sjiinning  columns  into 
the  air.  I’hinking  discretion  the  better  part  of  valor,  we 


AN  HXCURSION  TO  Till-:  MASAR-TACiH  447 


hastened  to  return  to  the  rest-house  at  Char-bai^h,  and  a dis- 
agreeable drive  it  was.  h'very  breath  we  inhaled  was  charged 
with  chokimi  dust;  even  the  horses  in  front  of  the  arba  dis- 
appeared  from  view  every  now  and  then,  so  that,  when  we 
reached  our  destination,  we  were  absolutely  smothered  with 
dust. 

March  ist.  The  storm  subsided,  and  we  had  good  weather 
for  the  return  journey  to  Maral-bashi,  where  to  my  delight  I 
found  letters  awaiting  me  from  home.  I'he  i)ost-jighit 
(courier)  who  brought  them  was  a capable  fellow,  an  old  .Sart 
from  Osh  in  h'ergana,  whom  I had  seen  before  on  the  Mur- 
o[hab.  I took  him  for  the  time  bein<4  into  mv  service. 

.An  old  man  of  eighty,  who  heard  that  we  were  going  to 
try  and  cross  the  Takla-makan  Desert,  came  to  my  house, 
and  told  me  that  in  his  youth  he  had  known  a man  who, 
while  going  from  Khotan  to  .\k-su,  lost  his  way  in  the  des- 
ert, and  came  to  an  ancient  city,  where  he  found  innumerable 
pairs  of  Chinese  shoes  in  the  houses;  but  directly  he  touched 
them  they  crumbled  to  dust.  .Another  man  started  out  into 
the  desert  from  .Aksak-maral,  and  by  pure  chance  stumbled 
upon  a town,  amid  the  ruins  of  which  he  unearthed  a quantity 
of  gold  and  silver  jambaus  (Chinese  coins).  Me  filled  his 
pockets  with  them,  as  well  as  a sack  he  had  with  him.  .As 
he  was  going  off  with  his  booty  a pack  of  wild -cats  rushed 
out  upon  him  and  frightened  him  so  much  that  he  threw  ev- 
erything away  and  took  to  flight;  when,  sonietime  afterwards, 
he  plucked  up  courage  to  venture  his  luck  a second  time,  he 
was  unable  to  find  the  place  again.  The  mysterious  town 
was  completely  swallowed  up  in  the  sand. 

A mollah  from  Khotan  was  more  successful.  He  had  fall-  - 
en  into  debt,  and  went  into  the  desert  to  die.  But  instead  of 
dying  he  discovered  a treasure  of  gold  and  silver,  and  was 
now  an  e.xceedingly  rich  man.  The  number  of  those  who 
had  gone  into  the  desert  with  the  same  design,  and  never  re- 
turned, was  legion.  The  old  man  solemnly  assured  me  that 
the  evil  spirits  must  be  exorcised  before  the  hidden  treasure 
could  be  sought  for  with  any  likelihood  of  success.  The 
spirits  bewitch  the  unhappy  beings  who  venture  thither,  so 


448 


THROUGH  ASIA 


that  they  become  confused  and  bewildered,  and  without  know- 
ing what  they  are  doing  they  go  round  and  round  in  a circle, 
retracing  their  own  footsteps,  and  go  and  go  until  they  fall 
down  from  sheer  exhaustion,  and  die  of  thirst. 

There  is  a tribe  of  ne’er-do-weels  hanging  about  the  places 
round  the  outskirts  of  the  desert,  who  firmly  believe  that 
sooner  or  later  they  will  discover  the  hidden  treasures  which 


A DERVISH  FROM  EAST  TURRESTAX 


lie  buried  amon^  its  sands.  These  2;old-seekers  are  alwavs 
looked  at  askance  by  their  neighbors,  and  should  be  avoided. 
They  will  not  work  ; but  live  on  the  hojie  of  making  their 
fortune  at  a single  stroke.  They  are  jiarasites,  a burden 
upon  their  neighbors,  who  in  their  “ s]iare  time”  occupy 
themselves  with  thieving  and  robbery.  For,  needless  to  say, 
they  never  find  any  hidden  treasure. 

Hut  whence  do  all  these  legends  come?  How  explain  all 
these  confirmatory  accounts  of  buried  cities,  and  these  vary- 


AN  KXCURSION  TO  T[]l-:  MASAR-TACill  449 


ing  traditions  of  the  great  city  of  former  times,  'I'akla-makan, 
which  was  swallowed  up  in  the  sand  ? Is  it  merely  by  acci- 
dent that  these  legends  dy  from  mouth  to  mouth  in  Khotan 
and  Yarkand,  Maral-bashi  and  .\k-su  ? Is  it  merely  by  acci- 
dent that  this  ancient  city  is  always  known  by  the  same 
name?  Is  it  merely  for  the  sake  of  making  themselves  in- 
teresting that  the  natives  describe  these  deserted  houses  in 
detail,  which  they  say  they  have  seen,  and  where,  they  say, 
in  former  times  there  were  great  forests,  the  home  of  the 
musk-deer  and  other  big  game  ? No,  it  cannot  be  by  chance; 
these  legends  imest  have  a foundation  and  a cause.  Deep 
under  them  there  must  verily  be  some  reality  for  them  to 
rest  on ; they  ought  not  to  be  scorned,  they  ought  not  to  be 
despised  and  neglected. 

To  these  fabulous,  these  adventurous  tales  I gave  the  eager 
ear  of  a child.  Everv  day  added  to  the  allurements  of  the 
perilous  journey  I contemplated.  I was  fascinated  by  all 
these  romantic  legends.  I became  blind  to  danger.  I had 
fallen  under  the  spell  of  the  weird  witchery  of  the  desert. 
Even  the  sand-storms,  those  terrible  scourges  of  Central  Asia, 
which  have  their  cradle  in  the  heart  of  that  sand-heated  fur- 
nace— even  they  were  in  my  eyes  beautiful,  even  they  en- 
chanted me.  Over  there,  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon,  were 
the  noble,  rounded  forms  of  the  sand  - dunes,  which  I never 
grew  tired  of  watching;  and  beyond  them,  amid  the  grave- 
like silence,  stretched  the  unknown,  enchanted  land,  of  whose 
existence  not  even  the  oldest  records  make  mention,  the  land 
that  I was  going  to  be  the  first  to  tread. 

March  2d.  Having  paid  and  settled  up,  we  left  Maral- 
bashi,  and  drove  southwest  towards  the  village  of  Khamal 
(the  Wind),  situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Yarkand-daria. 
The  road  led  across  a slightly  broken  steppe  country,  with 
scanty  herbage,  tussocks  of  grass,  and  bushes.  Khamal  was 
inhabited  by  thirty  families,  who  cultivated  wheat  and  maize  ; 
their  fields  being  irrigated  by  an  arik  (irrigation  canal)  led 
from  the  river.  During  the  summer,  when  the  river  is  in 
flood,  it  overflows  and  inundates  wide  tracts  along  the  banks. 
The  spring  floods,  caused  by  the  melting  of  the  winter  ice, 

1. — 29 


450 


THROUGH  ASIA 


likewise  bring  down  considerable  quantities  of  water,  as  we 
witnessed  every  day. 

March  3d.  Through  jungle  and  reeds,  through  poplar 
groves,  across  small  belts  of  sand,  and  through  marshes, 
where  the  ice  was  just  on  the  point  of  breaking  up,  our  creak- 
ing carts  ploughed  their  way  along  the  western  bank  of  the 
Yarkand  - daria.  Wild  boar  abound  in  the  jungle,  and  do 
much  damage  to  the  crops  in  the  villages  around.  To  pre- 
vent this  the  natives  put  up  sheds  here  and  there  about  the 
fields ; and  there  they  live  and  keep  watch  when  harvest 
time  is  approaching. 

The  amban  (Chinese  governor)  of  Maral-bashi  had  given 
orders  beforehand  to  the  on-bashis  (chiefs  over  ten  men)  of 
the  various  villages  that  they  should  receive  me  in  a fitting 
manner  ; and  as  a matter  of  fact  his  words  were  carried  out 
to  the  letter.  At  every  place  we  stopped  at  we  found  rooms 
ready  prepared,  and  everything  we  needed  in  the  way  of  food 
for  ourselves  and  for  our  animals  was  provided  for  us. 

Aksak-maral  (the  Lame  Deer),  where  we  made  our  next 
stop,  consisted  of  thirty  houses,  most  of  them  occupied  by 
Dolons,  who  reared  cattle  and  sheep,  and  grew  wheat  and 
maize.  The  winters  there  are  cold,  but  the  snowfall  is  in- 
considerable. The  springs  are  windy.  The  small  amount 
of  rain  which  falls  generally  comes  in  the  autumn,  often  to 
the  detriment  of  the  crops. 

During  the  night,  when  the  air  was  still  and  cold,  and  the 
currents  set  up  by  the  active  radiation  of  the  daytime  ceased 
to  rise,  the  atmosphere  generally  cleared.  So  it  did  to-day. 
During  the  morning  and  afternoon  the  sky  was  an  ashen 
gray ; but  in  the  evening  the  moon  and  stars  shone  fairly 
bright  in  the  zenith,  although  near  the  horizon  they  were 
swallowed  up  in  the  dust -haze.  In  the  morning  again  the 
blue  sky  was  only  visible  at  the  zenith,  but  gradually  merged 
into  gray  towards  the  horizon. 

March  4th.  Our  day’s  march  took  us  across  a very  ex- 
tensive marsh,  through  which  the  Chinese  authorities  had 
built  a road  some  seven  years  ])reviously.  As  it  was  built  to 
withstand  the  encroachment  of  the  Hoods,  it  was  constructed 


AX  HXCL’RSIOX  I'O  THK  MASAR-TAGH  451 


of  piles,  stakes,  fascines,  and  earth.  It  wound  through  the 
marsh  like  a narrow  ribbon  ; and  in  certain  places  was  car- 
ried over  bridges,  so  as  not  to  check  the  free  flow  of  the 
water.  In  spite  of  this,  however,  the  road  is  frequently  inun- 
dated during  the  months  of  J line,  July,  and  August,  comj)elling 
travellers  to  go  all  the  way  round  by  Kashgar.  The  marsh 
is  in  reality  a low-lying  lagoon,  and  is  said  to  have  e.xisted 
from  time  immemorial.  It  is  called  Cheravlik-tograktasi-koll 
(the  Fair  Poplar  Lake). 

.\la-ayghir  (the  Dappled  Mare)  was  the  name  of  the  next 
station,  a kishlak  of  twenty-five  Dolon  families.  The  same 
conditions  of  life  and  climate  obtained  there  as  in  the  foretro- 
ing  villages,  'fhere,  too,  east  winds  prevail  during  the  spring. 
Between  Maral-bashi  and  Yarkand  there  was  Chinese  postal 
communication,  as  well  as  in  general  a very  lively  traffic, 
carried  on  chiefly  by  means  of  arbas  (carts)  and  donkey  cara- 
vans. Camels  are  very  seldom  used. 

-\la-ayghir  was  situated  rather  more  than  half  a mile  from 
the  Varkand-daria ; but  when  the  river  ri.ses  in  the  summer, 
the  water  reaches  the  village.  Two  vears  ago  even  the  win- 
ter  shore-line  ran  just  below  the  village;  but  I was  told  that, 
more  particularly  during  the  last  few  years,  the  river  has 
shown  a tendency  to  shift  its  channel  somewhat  to  the  east. 

March  5th.  We  drove  ten  hours  to  day,  often  over  heavy 
roads,  soaked  in  water,  so  that  the  wheels  of  the  arbas  cut 
deeply  into  the  sandy  mud.  We  passed  three  villages;  and 
at  the  fourth,  Mevnet,  we  turned  in  at  an  unusually  com- 
fortable caravanserai.  On  the  wall  was  posted  a large  yellow 
placard,  in  Chinese  and  Turki  characters,  conveying  the  fol- 
lowing paternal  announcement:  “Whereas  I (the  Emperor 
of  China)  have  heard  that  certain  begs  have  imposed  unlaw- 
ful taxes  on  my  people,  and  have  furthermore  monopolized 
their  rights  of  fishing,  it  is  mv  will  and  desire  that  all  such 
infringements  be  forthwith  reported  to  the  nearest  Dao  Tai, 
and  if  the  latter  will  not  listen  to  and  remedy  the  same,  the 
people  shall  address  themselves  direct  to  me. — Kwang  Tsu.” 
Poor  Kwang  Tsii  ! He  has  never  even  heard  of  the  village 
of  Meynet,  and  what  cares  he  for  the  fishing  in  the  Yarkand- 


452 


THROUGH  ASIA 


daria  ? Meynet  boasts  of  fifteen  Dolon  households.  The 
belt  of  river-forest  was  at  that  point  only  a few  miles  broad, 
and  soon  thinned  and  died  away  in  the  desert.  Wolves 
were  common,  and  preyed  upon  the  flocks.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  have  been  no  tigers  for  many  years,  except  that 
a couple  of  years  ago  a single  tiger  showed  himself  at  Ala- 
ayghir. 

March  6th.  The  first  few  miles  ran  through  luxuriant 
poplar  woods,  until  we  came  to  the  river.  It  was  there  di- 
vided into  two  principal  branches  and  many  smaller  ones, 
still  sheeted  with  soft  ice,  except  that  there  was  a belt  of  open 
water  close  under  the  banks. 

Our  stopping-place  for  the  day  was  Lailik  (the  Dirty  Clay- 
ey Place),  the  last  village  in  this  direction  subject  to  the 
amban  of  Maral-bashi.  On  the  south  it  adjoined  the  Yar- 
kand district.  Its  population  consisted  of  fifteen  Dolon  fami- 
lies. Fishing  was  carried  on  in  the  river,  the  maximum 
height  of  which  at  the  season  of  high  flood  was  said  to  ap- 
proximate the  added  statures  of  five  men.  The  velocity  of 
the  current  was  pretty  considerable,  though  not  so  swift  as 
the  pace  of  a mounted  man.  It  takes  a man  on  horseback 
four  days  to  reach  Maral-bashi,  whereas  the  river  wants  as 
much  as  ten  days  to  do  the  distance. 

March  7th.  Lailik  was  for  some  time  our  headquarters, 
as  considerable  preparations  had  to  be  made  for  our  expedi- 
tion across  the  desert.  The  most  important  difficulty  was 
the  procuring  of  camels.  I had  been  rather  misled  b\  the 
merchants  in  Kashgar,  who  told  me  that  Maral-bashi  was  the 
best  place  to  get  good  camels.  We  hardly  ever  saw  a camel 
there.  I had  no  resource  except  to  try  and  procure  some 
from  Kashgar.  This  mission  I intrusted  to  Mohammed  Ya- 
kub, who,  in  any  case,  had  to  go  there  to  post  letters  and 
bring  others  back.  A fairly  good  camel  cost  500  tengeh 
(£5  i’"*  Yarkand;  but  in  Kashgar  only  400  (^4  lax.). 

Yakub  took  with  him  letters  to  Consul  Petrovsky,  and  to  the 
aksakal,  asking  them  to  assist  him  in  the  transactions,  and 
within  ten  days  he  was  to  be  back  again,  bringing  with  him 
eight  fine  camels  and  two  men. 


AN  l<:XCURSION  TO  THK  MASAR-TACiH  453 


Our  arabakeshes  were  now  dismissed,  being  ])aid  200 
tengehs  {^^2  6s.)  for  the  journey  from  Maral-bashi.  'I'hey 
thouoht  of  iToimi  to  Yarkand  to  try  to  get  work  there,  and 
meant  to  fill  their  two  arbas  with  fiiewood  from  the  last 
patch  of  forest  along  the  road.  A donkey-load  of  firewood 
was  worth  three  tengeh  (8^/.)  in  Yarkand,  and  an  arba  would 
hold  ten  such  loads,  so  that  the  men  hoi)ed  to  make  an  extra 
sixty  tengeh  (13.^.  9(^.)  by  the  return  journey. 

Islam  Bai  was  despatched  to  Yarkand  on  horseback  to  buy 
several  things  that  were  recjuired  for  our  desert  exjjedition — 
for  examjDle,  iron  tanks  for  water,  bread,  rice,  ropes,  and  a 
number  of  tools,  such  as  spades  and  hatchets.  I also  in- 
structed him  to  bring  a supply  of  sesame  oil  (yac^h),  and  the 
chaff  from  the  crushed  seeds  of  the  same  plant  {kyiichyr),  etc. 
The  oil  was  intended  to  feed  the  camels  on  in  the  desert.  A 
jing  (not  cpiite  one  ])int)  of  oil  will  sustain  a camel  for  a 
month  without  other  food;  though  it  is  always  a great  advan- 
tage to  find  supplies  of  herbage  during  the  march,  so  that  the 
animals  may  to  some  extent  freshen  up  and  recover  from 
their  exertions.  In  March  and  Aj)ril  they  cannot  well  go 
longer  than  three  days  without  water;  but  in  the  winter,  and 
on  level  ground,  they  can  last  out  six  or  seven  days  if  neces- 
sary. 

My  party  had  vanished  like  chaff  before  the  wind.  Fhe 
missionary  Johannes  was  the  only  one  now  left. 

March  8th.  I walked  through  the  young  forest  as  far  as 
the  river  in  order  to  take  some  observations;  and  found  a 
ferry-boat,  which  was  punted  across  in  seventy  seconds,  and 
which  could  carry  seven  horses,  six  donkeys,  and  twenty  men 
at  once. 

The  two  banks  were  very  dissimilar.  The  left  bank  was 
low,  flat,  and  bare,  with  many  sand-banks.  The  right  bank 
was  worn  perpendicularly  by  the  current,  which  ran  immedi- 
ately underneath  it;  and  was  luxuriantly  wooded  with  poplars 
and  tamarisks,  whose  roots  stuck  out  of  the  fine  alluvial  soil 
of  which  it  was  composed.  The  river  thus  showed  a marked 
tendency  to  press  against  the  right  bank,  and  eat  it  away. 
But  the  current  meandered  so  much  that  in  other  places  it 


454 


THROUGH  ASIA 


was  the  left  bank  which  was  eroded,  although  on  the  whole 
to  a much  less  extent  than  the  right  bank. 

The  forest  on  the  right  bank  was  six  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  stream;  nevertheless  it  is  overflowed  in  July.  The 
breadth  of  the  river  was  200  feet,  the  maximum  depth  six  feet 
three  inches,  velocity  of  the  current  two  feet  eight  inches  in 
the  second,  and  its  volume  -^obo  cubic  feet  in  the  second — a 
volume  which  must  be  inconsiderable  when  compared  with 
the  masses  of  water  which  in  the  height  of  summer  pour 
down  towards  Lop-nor.  The  temperature  was  46.9°  Fahr. 
(8.3°  C.),  and  there  was  no  ice  anywhere.  The  water  was, 
however,  only  transparent  to  a depth  of  barely  two  inches. 


CHAPTKR  XXXVII 


THK  SHRINE  OE  ORDAN  1‘ADSHAH 

March  9111.  W’ith  the  view  of  employing  jjrofitably  the 
time  while  my  men  were  away,  I decided  to  visit  the  shrine 
of  Ordan  Padshah  in  the  desert,  two  days’  journey  west  of 
Lailik.  I got  hold  of  a man  who  knew  the  way;  and  at 
eight  in  the  morning  we  were  in  the  saddle,  riding  at  a smart 
pace  west-nor'west,  first  through  forest,  which  gradually 
jjassed  over  into  brushwood,  then  across  steppe-land,  which 
in  its  turn  gave  place  to  the  desert,  d'he  sand,  however,  was 
not  deep,  nor  the  sand-dunes  high  ; but  the  latter  had  their 
steep  slopes  facing  westward,  indicating  the  prevalence  of 
easterlv  winds  at  that  season  of  the  year. 

It  was  an  interesting  excursion  ; for  the  region  had  never 
before  been  visited  by  a European.  After  lea\ing  the  large 
village  of  Mogal  (Mongol)  on  our  right,  we  came  to  Terem, 
where  the  beg  placed  his  house  at  my  disposal.  I reejuired 
little  room,  however,  for  I had  nothing  with  me  beyond  the 
barest  necessaries,  and  only  had  two  horse.s. 

The  villages  of  Terem  and  Mogal  consisted  of  200  house- 
holds each,  and  were  governed  by  a beg  and  eight  on-bashis; 
though  a Chinese  tax-collector  also  lived  there.  The  word 
Terem  means  a “cultivated  place,”  and  the  inhabitants  told 
me  that  in  point  of  fact  d'erem  was  in  former  times  famous 
for  its  good  harvests  and  abundant  water-supply.  People 
came  thither  from  all  parts  to  buy  corn.  The  change  which 
has  taken  place  must  unquestionably  be  attributed  to  the 
alteration  in  the  course  of  the  river.  The  place  now  gets  its 
water-supply  from  the  great  irrigation  canal  of  Khan-arik, 
which  issues  like  a main  artery  from  the  Ghez-daria,  and, 
passing  through  the  villages  of  Tazgun  and  Khan-arik, 


456 


THROUGH  ASIA 


stretches  its  last  net-work  of  arterioles  as  far  as  Terem.  But 
the  supply  is  insufficient,  irregular,  and  uncertain,  and  conse- 
quently the  harvest  often  fails. 

In  the  case  of  the  Khan-arik  there  exist  special  regula- 
tions, made  by  the  Chinese  authorities,  by  which  each  village 
is  only  allowed  the  use  of  the  water  for  a certain  time. 
Terem  had  now  been  furnished  with  water  for  three  months 
past ; but  in  twelve  days’  time  the  supply  would  be  cut  off, 
and  for  four  whole  months  not  a drop  would  reach  it  from 
the  irrigation  system.  The  inhabitants  would  be  obliged  to 
content  themselves  with  what  their  wells  would  yield.  Late 
in  the  summer  thev  would  again  have  the  use  of  the  life-giv- 
ing  waters  for  the  space  of  thirty-four  days. 

On  March  loth  we  left  Terem,  and  rode  in  a westerly 
direction  through  steppe,  desert,  and  marsh.  Here  I made 
the  important  discovery  of  four  ancient  river-beds,  now,  how- 
ev'er,  dried  up,  but  still  very  plainly  marked,  each  from  one 
hundred  to  a hundred  and  ten  yards  broad,  and  running 
towards  the  north -northeast.  They  could  not  possibly  be 
anvthing  but  deserted  channels  of  the  Yarkand-daria.  In 
Bai-khan-koll  (the  Rich  Khan’s  Lake),  a salt  and  shallow 
sheet  of  water,  with  marshy  shores  overgrown  with  kamish 
(reeds),  we  nearly  stuck  fast  altogether.  The  lake  is  largest 
in  winter,  when  it  becomes  frozen;  but  in  summer  the  water 
evaporates  almost  entirely,  despite  the  fact  that  the  lake  re- 
ceives the  overflow  of  the  ariks  of  the  Yanghi-hissar.  In  the 
district  of  Kizil-ji  we  crossed  by  a bridge  another  prolonga- 
tion of  the  ariks  of  the  Yanghi-hissar.  In  that  neighborhood 
there  was  a saint’s  tomb  called  Kizil-ji-khanem,  an  interesting 
fact,  for  the  name  occurs  in  the  map  of  Edrisi,  the  famous 
Arab  geographer  of  the  twelfth  century. 

At  the  point  where  the  desert  proper  began,  and  where 
the  sand-dunes  were  about  twenty-five  feet  high,  stood  the 
insignificant  village  of  Lengher  (the  Rest-Station).  There  a 
dervish  resides  during  the  great  annual  religious  festivals,  to 
take  charge  of  the  pilgrims’  horses,  which  are  left  to  graze 
on  the  grass  and  kamish  which  abound  in  the  neighborhood. 
He  also  sells  maize  to  the  pilgrims,  and  supplies  the  shrine 


TWK  SHKIXH  OF  ORDAN  PADSHAH  457 


with  fuel.  Heyond  this  place  the  sand-dunes  were  fairly 
continuous;  but  as  they  ran  south-southwest  to  north-north- 
east, and  we  were  riding  south-southwest,  we  were  generally 
able  to  take  advantage  of  the  intervening  hollows,  where  the 
soil  was  hard  clay. 

.An  hour’s  ride  short  of  the  shrine  we  caught  up  a party  of 
forty-five  pilgrims — men,  women,  and  children — who  were  on 
their  way  thither  from  Lengher  to  pray  at  the  tomb  of  the 
saint.  Fifteen  of  the  men  carried  timhs  — z>.,  long  sticks  with 
white  and  colored  pennons  fluttering  from  the  ends.  .At  the 
head  of  the  jjrocession  rode  a Hute-jdayer,  and  on  each  side 
of  him  was  a man  banging  away  at  a drum  as  hard  as  hands 
and  arms  could  move.  Every  now  and  then  the  whole  con- 
course shouted  “.Allah!”  at  the  full  pitch  of  their  voices. 
W hen  they  drew  near  to  the  shrine  they  greeted  the  sheikh 
who  had  charge  of  it  with  wild  howls  of  “ Allah ! .Allah  1” 
while  the  standard-bearers  performed  a religious  dance. 

It  was  dusk  when  we  reached  the  khanekah  (prayer-house), 
adjoining  the  shrine,  and  standing  in  a village  of  twenty-five 
households.  Most  of  the  people  only  sojourn  there  for  a 
short  time : but  four  families  remain  the  whole  year  round 
to  take  care  of  the  saint’s  tomb.  The  principal  sheikh,  who 
also  has  control  over  the  Hazrett  Begim’s  tomb,  was  for  the 
time  being  absent  at  Yanghi-hissar.  He  constantl)'  travels 
backward  and  forward  between  the  two  shrines,  spending 
some  time  at  each,  and  for  this  reason  has  a wife  at  each. 
One  of  the  resident  custodians  informed  me  that  every  winter 
10,000  to  12,000  pilgrims  visit  the  shrine  of  Ordan  Padshah  ; 
but  in  the  summer  there  are  usually  not  more  than  5000,  as 
at  that  season  of  the  year  the  heat  and  scarcity  of  water  render 
travelling  irksome.  The  pilgrims  who  came  from  Lengher 
at  the  same  time  we  did  brought  with  them  two  sacks  of 
maize  as  an  offering,  and  placed  them  in  a bronze  vessel  in 
the  prayer-house.  Then  they  made  a thorough  good  meal 
off  it,  in  which  they  were  joined  by  the  custodians  of  the 
shrine.  The  tribute  was,  however,  a prayer  for  a fruitful 
year. 

There  were  eight  houses  in  the  village,  standing  in  two 


458 


THROUGH  ASIA 


rows,  with  a street  running  east  to  west  between  them.  To 
the  north  two  or  three  more  houses  were  half  buried  in  the 
sand-dunes,  which  were  threatening  the  village  itself. 

I was  assigned  an  exceptionally  comfortable  room  in  the 
upper  story  of  the  guest-house,  with  latticed  windows,  look- 
ing out  upon  the  dreary  desert  on  the  south.  In  spite  of  the 
hideous  din  that  was  kept  up  in  the  street  below  all  night 
long,  by  the  pilgrims  marching  in  procession  backward  and 
forward,  playing  flutes,  singing,  beating  drums,  and  waving 
flags,  I slept  soundly  till  morning.  When  I awoke  I found  a 
furious  sand-storm  blowing,  and  clouds  of  dust  whirling  in 
through  the  latticed  window  and  dancing  in  giddy  eddies 
round  the  room. 

March  iith  was  devoted  to  making  a nearer  acquaintance 
with  this  curious  place  of  pilgrimage,  which  has  only  been 
visited  once  before  by  a European — namely,  by  Major  Bellew, 
in  April,  1874.  He  reached  it  from  the  west,  I approached  it 
from  the  east;  our  investigations,  therefore,  supplement  each 
other. 

In  addition  to  the  principal  sheikh,  the  permanent  person- 
ncl  of  the  shrine  consisted  of  an  imam  or  reader  of  prayers, 
a mutevelleh  or  steward  of  the  shrine  properties,  and  twenty 
S7cpehs  or  men-servants.  All  these  are  fed  and  maintained 
at  the  exclusive  expense  of  the  pilgrims.  These,  according 
to  their  circumstances,  bring  horses,  sheep,  cows,  poultry, 
eggs,  seed-corn,  fruit,  khalats  (coats),  and  other  useful  articles. 
With  the  exception  of  the  live-stock,  everything  goes  into  the 
largest  of  the  metal  vessels  set  apart  for  receiving  the  pilgrims’ 
offerings.  Of  these  there  were  five,  all  built  into  a brick  fire- 
place, in  the  walls  of  the  kazan-khaneh,  or  “caldron-house." 
The  Altyn-dash,  or  Gold  Stone,  as  the  largest  of  the  five  ves- 
sels is  called,  was  about  five  feet  in  diameter,  and  was  made 
of  bronze;  it  is  said  to  date  back  eight  hundred  years,  from 
the  time  of  Ordan  Padshah  himself.  Next  came  a handsome 
copper  vessel,  3 feet  4 inches  in  diameter,  a present  to  the 
shrine  by  Yakub  Peg  of  Kashgar,  who  himself  made  three 
pilgrimages  to  the  place.  The  other  three  were  smaller  and 
of  various  sizes.  When  there  is  a great  influx  of  pilgrims, 


A saint’s  SHRINE  IN  CENTRAL  ASIA 

THE  ATIUULIK  ATA-MASAK  A l’  TASIIKENU 


THK  SHRINE  OF  ORDAN  PADSHAH  461 


the  custodians  of  the  shrine  make  ash  or  pillau  (mutton  with 
rice  and  spices)  in  the  biggest  vessel  for  everybody  at  once. 
At  other  times  the  smaller  vessels  are  used,  according  to  the 
number  of  the  jjilgrims.  'I'he  “ caldron  - house  ” was  built 
two  years  ago.  The  old  one  is  now  half  buried  in  a sand- 
dune,  which  already  threatens  to  enclose  the  new  structure 
within  the  horns  of  its  hollow  crescent.  The  winds  which 
determine  the  movement  of  the  sand-dunes  in  this  region 

O 

blow  from  the  northwest. 

On  the  windward  side  of  the  nearest  sand-dune  was  a half- 
buried  grave-mound  decorated  with  tughs.  It  contained  the 
dust  of  Shah  Yakub  Sheikh,  and  was  said  to  be  710  years  old. 
According  to  the  direction  in  which  the  dunes  are  at  present 
moving,  the  tomb  will  soon  be  entirely  e.xjDOsed  again.  The 
ma.ximum  breadth  of  the  sand-dune  was  nearly  400  feet,  and 
its  height  about  16  feet,  so  that  it  overtopped  the  roofs  of  the 
houses.  The  little  village  stands  in  the  clay  hollow  between 
the  leeward  side  of  this  sand-dune  and  its  nearest  neighbor 
on  the  southeast,  on  a space  some  170  yards  broad.  In  vio- 
lent storms  the  sand  is  blown  right  aciws  from  the  one  dune 
to  the  other. 

The  khanekah,  or  prayer-house,  contained  an  oratory,  and 
a balcony,  with  an  eastern  aspect,  supported  by  sixteen  pillars. 
Immediately  north  of  the  village  the  fresh-water  spring,  Che- 
vatt-khanem,  bubbled  up  out  of  the  ground,  filling  a round 
pool  surrounded  by  a wooden  railing.  The  water  was  toler- 
ably clear,  considering  that  the  sand  was  only  cleaned  out 
once  a year;  but  it  issues  so  slowly  that  it  is  insufficient  on 
festival  days.  On  such  occasions  the  pilgrims  have  to  fall 
back  upon  another  spring,  Cheshmeh  (a  Persian  word  mean- 
ing “ a spring  ”),  which  yields  saltish  water,  and  is  ten  minutes 
farther  away. 

At  a distance  of  twenty  minutes  towards  the  northwest 
stood  the  saint’s  masar  or  tomb,  a truly  extraordinary  struct- 
ure. It  was  composed  of  a sheaf  of  two  or  three  thousand 
tughs,  each  with  a pennon  attached,  stacked  up  in  the  shape 
of  an  Eifel  tower.  Standing  forty  feet  high,  on  the  top  of  a 
sand-dune,  it  was  visible  to  a great  distance.  An  attempt  has 


462 


THROUGH  ASIA 


been  made  to  render  the  dune  stationary  by  planting  sheaves 
of  kamish  (reeds)  in  the  sand  round  the  masar;  and  the  expe- 
dient has  been  to  some  extent  successful,  for  the  portion  of 
the  sand-dune  upon  which  the  masar  stands  projects  so  far 
towards  the  northwest  — i.e,,  to  windward  — that  it  is  now 
threatened  by  the  dune  which  comes  next  on  that  side. 

The  sand-storm  raged  with  undiminished  violence,  so  that 
the  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  pennons  flapped  and  fluttered 
furiously,  with  an  endless  series  of  small  reports.  These 
tughs  are  brought  there  year  after  year  by  the  pilgrims,  so 
that  the  curious  sheaf  goes  on  increasing  in  size.  To  prevent 
the  whole  structure  from  being  blown  over,  the  sticks  are 
secured  at  the  top  by  a couple  of  square  wooden  cross-pieces. 
A number  of  smaller  bundles  of  tughs  form  a fence,  thirty 
yards  square,  all  round  the  tomb. 

The  imam  told  me  something  of  the  story  of  Ordan  Pad- 
shah. His  real  name  was  Sultan  Ali  Arslan  Khan;  and 
eight  hundred  years  ago  he  was  ot  enmity  with  the  tribe  of 
Togdarashid-Noktarashid,  among  whom  he  was  endeavoring 
to  propagate  Islam.  In  the  midst  of  the  strife  he  was  over- 
taken by  a kara-buran,  or  black  sand-storm,  from  Kharesm 
(Khiva),  which  buried  him  and  the  whole  of  his  army.  Hence 
to  this  day  he  plays  an  important  part  in  the  martyrology  of 
East  Turkestan. 

In  the  afternoon  we  rode  through  the  villages  of  Dost- 
bulak  (the  Friend’s  Spring),  Khorasan,  and  Psann  due  north 
to  Achick  (Bitter),  the  yuz-bashi  of  which  received  me  in  a 
friendly  spirit,  telling  me  a good  deal  about  the  climate  and 
the  roads  in  the  vicinity. 

March  12th.  Having  an  eight  hours’  ride  to  Terem,  we 
started  early,  and  rode  through  a strong  nor’westerly  gale. 
The  district  between  the  two  places  was  chiefly  of  a marshy, 
steppe -like  character,  with  occasional  thickets  of  tamarisk, 
thistles,  and  tussocks  of  grass;  which,  when  they  get  thor- 
oughly dry,  are  often  uprooted,  curled  into  balls  by  the  wind, 
and  so  swept  along  the  ground.  The  surface  was  covered 
with  fine  loose  dust,  which  was  driven  up  like  smoke  before 
the  gale.  We  often  rode  through  swamps  of  stagnant  arik 


niH  SHRINK  OK  ORDAN  PADSHAH  463 


water,  and  were  sometimes  constrained  to  make  detours  to 
avoid  the  more  sodden  places.  In  so  doing  we  managed  to 
lose  our  way  several  times,  but  were  put  right  by  shepherds, 
who  with  the  help  of  their  dogs  were  guarding  their  Hocks  of 
goats  and  sheep. 

Not  a glint  of  the  sun  was  discernible.  The  sky  was  a ruddy 
yellow,  sometimes  turning  to  murky  gray.  When  we  event- 
ually reached  Terem,  by  way  of  Kbtteklik  (the  Dead  Korest), 
both  horses  and  riders  were  smothered  in  ash-gray  dust. 

March  13th.  The  gale  still  continued  unabated.  To-day, 
however,  the  wind  veered  round  to  the  north  and  northeast. 
It  was  thus  a three  days’  storm,  what  the  natives  call  a sarik- 
buraji  (yellow  storm),  because  it  just  tinges  the  sky  yellow. 

h'rom  Terem  we  rode  southeast  to  the  village  of  Terek- 
lengher  (the  Poplar  Rest  - house),  on  the  Yarkand  - daria.  It 
was  nine  hours’  smart  riding  through  a country  known  by  the 
name  of  ala-kum — />.,  alternating  steppe  and  sandy  desert.  In 
the  vicinity  of  the  river  we  crossed  a bridge  spanning  the 
Khandi  - arik,  an  important  irrigation  canal,  which  takes  its 
rise  a day’s  journey  above  Yarkand,  and  supplies  a great  num- 
ber of  villages  with  water.  Nine  years  ago  it  was  repaired  by 
command  of  the  Chinese,  a task  which  is  said  to  have  <riven 
employment  to  eleven  thousand  men.  This  vast  undertak- 
ing seems  to  have  been  considerably  simplified  in  the  first  in- 
stance by  the  utilization  for  long  distances  of  a former  bed  of 
the  Yarkand-daria.  Between  the  canal  and  the  river  several 
former  river  levels  were  clearly  distinguishable.  The  villagers 
declared  that  at  one  time  the  river  flowed  close  past  their 
village,  although  it  was  now  situated  two  miles  from  it.  They 
expressed  themseU'es  as  well  satisfied  with  this  caprice  of 
nature,  for  it  had  allowed  them  to  extend  their  fields  over 
the  alluvial  soil  of  the  former  river-bed. 

March  14th.  The  wind  subsided  a little  to-day,  and  shifted 
right  round  to  the  east.  I noticed  that  the  storms  often  began  in 
the  west,  and  later  veered  round  by  way  of  north  to  the  east.  We 
kept  along  the  river  in  a northeasterly  direction  till  we  reached 
Lailik.  For  some  distance  the  river -bank  was  very  much 
eroded,  rising  like  a vertical  wall  to  the  height  of  13  feet,  and 


464 


THROUGH  ASIA 


disclosing  a horizontal  stratum  of  fine  yellow  soil,  sand  and 
alluvium,  riddled  by  numberless  roots,  which  sometimes  hung 
swaying  over  the  water.  The  first  half  of  the  journey  took 
us  through  a series  of  villages ; then  the  country  was  barren 
until  we  reached  the  woods  near  Lailik,  where  we  arrived 
just  after  mid-day,  and  found  everything  in  good  order  under 
Johannes’  care. 


CHAPTHR  XXXVIII 


ON  THE  'rURESHOLD  OF  THE  DESERT 

March  15111.  This  day  marked  the  beginning  of  a long 
jKM'iod  of  waiting,  extremely  trying  to  my  patience.  I )ay  af- 
ter day  went  by,  but  no  camels  arrived.  I would  gladly  pass 
over  these  twenty-five  days  altogether,  but  find  in  my  note- 
book certain  incidents  and  facts  that  arc  not  without  interest. 

I made  it  my  business  to  gather  all  the  information  1 could 
about  the  desert  that  stretched  to  the  east.  For  instance,  to- 
day I heard  of  two  men  who,  a few  years  ago,  started  from  the 
villase  of  Yantak,  on  the  ri^ht  bank  of  the  Yarkand-daria, 
taking  with  them  provisions  for  twelve  days.  After  three 
days  they  reached  a disused  river-bed,  deep  and  stony,  with  a 
wooden  bridge  across  it,  but  so  dilapidated  that  it  would  not 
bear  them  to  walk  on  it.  They  thought  at  first  of  following^ 
up  the  course  of  the  river ; but  as  they  found  no  water  in 
that  direction  they  retraced  their  steps,  and  went  down 
stream,  and  there  discovered  quantities  of  nephrite  or  jade. 
After  another  seven  days  they  reached  the  mountain  of 
Masar - tagh,  where  they  found  kamish  and  obtained  water 
by  digging. 

Shahr-i-katak,  as  a rule  curtailed  to  Ktak,  is  another  leijen- 
dary  town  which  haunts  the  same  part  of  the  great  Asiatic 
desert.  Its  reputed  situation  varies  a good  deal.  At  Lailik 
I was  told  it  lay  five  potais  (twelve  and  a half  miles)  west  of 
the  village,  and  that  many  years  ago  a man  found  the  ruins 
there ; but  when  it  was  searched  for  afterwards,  it  could  not 
be  found.  The  people  say  that  none  but  Allah  can  lead  a 
man  thither.  No  matter  how  perseveringly  he  may  search 
himself,  he  will  never  find  the  place  unless  God  wills  he 
should.  I heard  also  that  twelve  men  were  just  about  to  set 
I.— 30 


466 


THROUGH  ASIA 


out  from  Yarkand  into  the  desert  in  quest  of  gold.  They 
generally  choose  the  spring  for  these  expeditions,  as  they  say 
that  the  sand-storms  are  then  more  likely  to  expose  the  gold. 
A month  previously  a man  had  gone  into  the  desert,  and  had 
not  returned.  At  Yarkand  the  people  believe  that  the  travel- 
ler through  the  desert  often  hears  voices  calling  him  by  name, 
but  that  if  he  follows  them  he  goes  astray  and  dies  of  thirst. 
It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  with  what  Marco  Polo  has 
to  say  of  the  great  Lop  desert : “ But  there  is  a marvellous 
thing  related  of  this  desert,  which  is,  that  when  travellers  are 
on  the  move  by  night,  and  one  of  them  chances  to  lag  be- 
hind, or  to  fall  asleep,  or  the  like,  when  he  tries  to  gain  his 
company  again  he  will  hear  spirits  talking,  and  will  suppose 
them  to  be  his  comrades.  Sometimes  the  spirits  will  call  him 
by  name,  and  thus  shall  a traveller  ofttimes  be  led  astray,  so 
that  he  never  finds  his  party.  And  in  this  way  many  have 
perished.”* 

To-day  Islam  Bai  returned  from  Yarkand,  bringing  with 
him  four  chelleks  (iron  tanks)  for  water,  six  tnlums  (goat- 
skins for  water),  sesame  oil  and  seed-husks  for  the  camels, 
petroleum,  bread,  talkau  (toasted  flour),  gaiiinan  (macaroni), 
honey,  sacks,  spades,  whips,  bridle-bits,  bowls,  cups,  and  divers 
other  requisites. 

March  i8th.  During  these  days  I had  frequent  opportu- 
nity of  observing  how  closely  the  radiation  was  dependent  upon 
the  amount  of  dust  with  which  the  atmosphere  was  charged. 
When  the  atmosphere  was  nearly  clear,  the  radiation  went 
up  to  1 14.8°  I"ahr.  (46°  C.) ; but  after  a violent  buran  it  sank  to 
69°  Fahr.  (20.6°  C.).  This  was  on  March  i6th;  after  that  the 
air  gradually  cleared,  so  that  the  radiation  on  March  17th 
went  up  to  81.7°  P'ahr.  (27.6°  C.),  and  the  following  day  it  was 
97.9°  Fahr.  (36.6°  C.).  Concurrently  with  this  the  minimum 
temperature  during  the  night  sank  after  the  buran  had 
ceased,  while  the  atmosphere  gradually  cleared.  h'or  ex- 
ample, before  the  buran  the  minimum  thermometer  read 
21.2'"  T'ahr.  ( — 6°  C.) ; during  the  last  day  of  the  buran  it 


* From  Vule’s  The  Book  of  Ser  Afareo  Polo,  I.  p.  203  (1874F 


ON  riiRi':snoLi)  of  thi<:  i)1':seri'  467 


rose  to  31.3''  I‘'ahr.  ( — 0.4°  C.),  but  again  fell  to  28.4° 
b'ahr.  (-2°  C.).  and  yesterday  to  25.7’  Fahr.  (-3.5°  C.). 
In  other  words,  the  radiation  increased  in  proportion  as 
the  dust  dropped  back  to  the  earth  and  was  blown  away. 
In  the  same  way  the  temperature  of  the  air  rose  in 
the  shade  at  mid-day  in  proportion  as  the  atmosphere 
cleared;  thus  on  March  i6th,  17th.  and  18th  respectively  I 
got  readings  of  41.7°  hahr.  (5.4"  C.),  45.3°  hahr.  (7.4'’  C.),  and 
51.8°  Fahr.  (11°  C.).  d'he  cpiantity  of  dust  with  which  the 
atmosphere  was  charged  thus  e.xercised  considerable  inilu- 
ence  upon  the  readings  of  the  meteorological  instruments. 

On  March  19th  we  moved  over  to  the  large  village  of 
Merket,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Yarkand-daria,  whence  the 
caravan  was  to  make  its  start  for  the  desert.  In  the  morning 
a number  of  the  inhabitants  of  Merket  came  to  escort  us  to 
their  village.  The  beg,  Mehemmed  Xia/.  Beg,  arrived  with 
a present  of  chickens,  eggs,  and  dastarkhan  (light  refresh- 
ments). He  was  a tall  man,  with  a thin  white  beard,  and 
looked  energetic  and  severe.  Transjjort  horses  were  em- 
ployed to  carry  over  our  baggage,  and  after  the  on-bashi  of 
Lailik  and  his  pretty  wife,  who  had  both  been  very  kind  and 
hospitable  during  my  stay  in  their  house,  had  been  well  re- 
warded with  money  and  cloth,  we  marched  down  to  the  ferry, 
which  conveyed  us  and  our  large  caravan  across  in  four  trips. 
The  ice  had  evidently  ceased  to  melt  farther  to  the  south,  for 
the  river  had  fallen  eleven  inches  since  March  8th  ; and  from 
this  time  onward  it  would  continue  to  sink  until  the  summer 
floods  came  down  from  the  mountains. 

After  a cjuarter  of  an  hour’s  ride  in  a southeasterly  direc- 
tion we  passed  the  village  of  Anghetlik,  which  received  its 
irrigation  water  from  an  eastern  branch  of  the  Yarkand-daria. 
At  the  end  of  an  hour  we  reached  the  village  of  Chamgurluk, 
and  after  another  three-quarters  of  an  hour  were  in  Merket. 
The  beg  placed  his  own  house  at  my  disposal,  and  I was  soon 
installed  in  a large  and  pleasant  room  co\ered  with  carpets 
and  with  niches  in  the  walls. 

Counting  in  the  surrounding  kishlaks  (winter  villages) 
Merket  numbered  a thousand  dwellings,  of  which  250  were 


468 


THROUGH  ASIA 


in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  bazaar.  The  village  of 
Yantak,  a short  distance  farther  north,  had  300  houses. 
Yantak,  together  with  Anghetlik  and  Chamgurluk,  consti- 
tute a beklik  or  beglik  (administrative  division  under  a beg), 
while  Merket  has  its  own  beg.  In  the  latter  place  dwelt  two 
tax-collectors,  two  Chinese  merchants,  and  four  Hindu  money- 
lenders from  Shikarpur.  It  was  a fruitful  region,  producing 
wheat,  maize,  barley,  beans,  turnips,  cucumbers,  melons,  beet- 
root, grapes,  apricots,  peaches,  mulberries,  apples,  pears,  and 
cotton.  In  good  years  the  crops  are  so  plentiful  that  large 
quantities  of  seed-corn  are  exported  to  Kashgar  and  Yarkand, 
but  in  bad  years  the  reverse  is  the  case,  and  grain  is  im- 
ported froiTi  Yarkand. 

Although  Merket  is  so  close  to  the  banks  of  the  Yarkand- 
daria,  it  does  not  derive  its  irrigation  water  from  it,  but  from 
the  Tisnab-daria,  the  river  of  Kargalik,  which  flows  parallel 
with  the  Yarkand-daria.  When  the  current  is  low  this  river 
does  not  reach  farther  than  Yantak,  but  at  other  times  it  ad- 
vances a considerable  distance  farther  north,  and  forms  two 
small  lakes,  which,  however,  are  dry  at  all  other  seasons.  Its 
right  bank,  too,  is  bordered  by  a belt  of  forest,  but  not  more 
than  twelve  and  a half  miles  broad  at  the  outside.  The 
winters  are  cold,  though  the  fall  of  snow  is  small,  and  the 
snow  melts  directly;  the  summers,  on  the  contrary,  are  hot. 
The  rainfall  is  distributed  equally  over  the  whole  of  the  warm 
season,  and  sometimes  is  so  heavy  that  it  destroys  the  flat 
roots  of  the  houses.  Northeasterly  winds  jorevail,  and  the 
storms  last  from  two  to  four  days,  loading  the  atmosphere 
with  dust  and  occasioning  a “rain  ” of  dust,  which  settles  on 
the  vegetation  in  the  form  of  a thick  grayish-yellow  down. 

Strange  to  say,  Merket  has  never  before  been  visited  by 
any  Kuro])ean.  The  name  apj^ears  for  the  first  time,  though 
in  the  form  Meket,  in  General  Pievtsoff’s  account  of  his 
travels;  but  he  could  not  visit  it  while  the  Yarkand-daria 
was  in  flood.  The  Chinese,  however,  have  long  known  the 
place,  for  it  is  mentioned  under  the  name  of  Mai-ghe-teh  in 
the  Si-yi-shuy-dao-tsi,  a work  j)ublishcd  in  1823.  .Accord- 
ing to  Chinese  transcrij)tion,  Yantak,  or  Yantaklik,  becomes 


ON  rni':  ri  irks  hold  oi'  thl  dlslrt  469 


Van-va-li-ke,  and  I'i^nab  becomes  Tin-tsa-bu.  The  author 
of  the  work  in  question  states  that  this  river  unites  with  the 
Varkand-daria,  and  that  certainly  would  be  the  case  if  the 
water  were  not  employed  for  irrigation,  and  did  not  become 
dissipated  in  the  small  lakes  already  mentioned.  His  de- 
scription, however,  may  have  been  correct  enough  eighty 
years  ago. 

In  Merket,  too,  there  were  some  of  the  loafing  gold-seekers 
I have  mentioned.  One  man  told  me  that,  along  with  some 


ENTRANCE  TO  A BAZAAR  IN  A CENTRAL  ASIAN  VILLAOE 

companions,  he  had  travelled  for  twenty  days  on  foot  through 
the  desert,  carrying  with  them  supplies  of  food  and  water 
on  donkeys.  After  going  seven  days  east-northeast  by  the 
side  of  gigantic  sand-dunes,  the}’  reached  a long,  straggling 
mountain.  They  had  occasionally  seen  a few  tamarisks, 
and  in  some  places  had  obtained  water  after  digging.  My 
informant,  besides  many  others,  was  in  the  habit  of  going  out 
every  year  into  the  desert  to  look  for  gold,  but  as  yet  had 
found  nothing.  They  called  the  desert  Takla-makan;  and 
the  general  consensus  of  opinion  was  that,  given  strong 


470 


THROUGH  ASIA 


camels,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  cross  right  over  it  to  the 
Khotan-daria. 

In  the  evening  I held  a levee.  Niaz  Beg  and  the  on-bashi 
of  Anghetlik,  Togda  Khodia,  each  presented  me  with  a 
sheep,  while  the  Hindus  ga\'e  me  a goodly  supply  of  potatoes 
and  butter,  both  exceedingly  welcome.  Afterwards  we  were 
entertained  for  a long  time  with  the  music  of  a setar  (zither) 
and  a ghalin  (small  harp),  which,  played  in  a slow  time, 
sounded  very  well  together,  although  the  music  was  rather 
melancholy. 

March  20th.  Tosfda  Khodia  was  a thorough  crentleman. 

o 00 

He  often  came  to  see  me,  and  would  sit  talking  in  my  room 
by  the  hour  together.  When  I began  to  grow  impatient  at 
receiving  no  news  of  the  camels,  he  always  exhorted  me  to 
patience,  saying  with  unruffled  composure,  and  with  a con- 
viction which  allowed  of  no  demur,  Kelladi ! Kelladi !" 
(They  will  come  ! They  will  come  !)  But  nothing  was  heard 
of  them  ; and  precious  time  was  being  wasted.  I felt  that 
we  were  heaping  glowing  coals  on  our  heads,  for  spring  was 
upon  us,  and  during  the  hot  season  of  the  year  the  desert  is 
simply  a furnace. 

Meanwhile  Togda  Khodia  gave  me  much  valuable  infor- 
mation. To-day,  for  example,  he  told  me  that  the  inhabitants 
of  Merket  are  Dolons,  and  that  in  their  own  opinion  they 
are  in  nowise  different  from  the  people  of  Kashgar.  They 
possess  a few  slight  dialectical  differences  of  speech,  that  is 
all.  But  Togda  Khodia  himself  considered  them  very  differ- 
ent from  their  neighbors.  Their  natures  were  hard  and  cold, 
and  they  were  so  unforgiving  that  trifling  disputes  would 
linger  on  for  years. 

The  observances  of  Islam  were  jealously  kept  at  Merket. 
On  the  last  bazaar-day,  in  the  middle  of  the  fast,  a man  ate 
before  the  sun  set.  He  was  immediately  seized,  flogged,  and 
with  his  hands  tied  behind  his  back  was  led  in  a rope  through 
the  bazaar,  from  every  corner  of  which  the  following  questions 
and  answers  were  re-echoed  as  the  offender  passed : 

“ Did  you  eat  T' 

“ Yes.” 


ON  rHK  TIIRKSHOI.I)  OF  TIIF  DESFRT  471 


“ Do  you  mean  to  do  it  again  ?” 

“ Never.” 

It  is  also  customary  to  blacken  the  culprit’s  face  before  he 
makes  his  jjenitential  j)romenade  through  the  bazaar. 

On  March  21st  I visited  the  bazaar.  It  was  very  spacious, 
and  every  trade  and  calling  had  a sjjecial  alley  allotted  to  it. 
Nevertheless,  there  was  no  trading  done  except  once  a week — 
namelv,  on  the  bazaar-dav,  when  stalls  and  wares  are  brought 
out  of  the  houses  and  arranged  on  platforms  built  in  front  of 
them.  At  the  time  of  my  visit  there  were  a number  of  wom- 
en sitting  on  the  platforms  sewing.  The  women  were  al- 
ways unveiled,  generally  bareheaded,  and  wore  their  thick 
black  hair  in  two  long  plaits.  Sometimes,  however,  their 
heads  were  covered  with  a small  round  coif  or  calotte.  A 
particularly  popular  occujjation  with  them  seemed  to  be  the 
extermination  of  certain  undesirable  parasites,  and  it  was  a 
by  no  means  rare  thing  to  see  one  woman  with  her  head 
resting  in  her  neighbor's  lap. 

Immediately  outside  the  village  there  was  a sand-dune  25 
to  30  feet  in  height,  running  south-southwest  to  north-north- 
east as  regularly  constructed  as  though  it  had  been  built  of 
set  purpose.  Its  summit,  which  was  crowned  by  the  masar 
(tomb)  of  Chimdereh  Khan,  commanded  a fine  view  over  the 
village,  with  its  flat-roofed  houses  surrounding  small  square 
court-yards. 

At  last,  on  March  2 2d,  Mohammed  Yakub  came  back 
from  Kashgar,  bringing  a bulky  mail-bag,  but  no  camels!  I 
was  thus  left  precisely  where  I had  been  at  the  beginning  of 
the  month.  Now  I fell  back  upon  my  excellent  Islam  Bai, 
and  on  the  next  day  sent  him  off  to  Yarkand  post-haste  with 
peremptory  orders  not  to  come  back  again  without  camels. 
Happily  I had  my  meteorological  and  astronomical  observa- 
tions, to  say  nothing  of  the  letters  I had  just  received  and  of 
old  Togda  Khodia,  to  help  me  pass  the  time.  I did  not  find 
Johannes,  the  missionary,  much  of,  a resource.  He  was  one 
of  those  morbidly  religious  people  who  imagine  that  true 
Christianity  is  incompatible  with  a sober  joy  in  life,  as  well 
as  with  good  spirits.  This  was  no  doubt  partly  due  to  his 


472 


THROUGH  ASIA 


being  a converted  Mohammedan:  such  proselytes  are  often 
ten  times  worse  than  their  teachers.  However,  he  was  eood- 
natured  and  helpful,  though  he  always  seemed  to  be  de- 
pressed and  in  dull  spirits. 

A few  days  afterwards  I fell  a victim  to  a very  bad  and 
painful  sore  throat,  known  by  the  name  of  gorkak,  very  prev- 
alent thereabouts.  After  I had  tried  the  beg’s  prescription, 
which  was  to  gargle  my  throat  with  warm  milk,  but  to  no 
purpose,  he  proposed  that  I should  give  the  peri-bakshis  or 
spirit-exorcisers  a trial.  I told  him  that  I did  not  believe  in 
such  nonsense ; but  that  the  peri  - bakshis  were  welcome  all 
the  same. 

After  dark,  when  there  was  no  light  in  the  room  save  what 
came  from  the  glowing  coals  on  the  hearth,  the  peri-bakshis 
were  introduced — three  big,  bearded  men,  in  long  white  cha- 
pans  (cloaks).  Each  carried  a drum  {doff)  of  extremely  tight- 
ly stretched  calf-skin,  and  on  these  they  proceeded  to  perform 
by  tapping  them  with  their  fingers,  beating  them  with  the 
flat  of  the  hand,  and  thumping  them  with  their  fists.  The 
drums  save  out  such  a volume  of  sound  that  it  misht  have 
been  heard  at  Lailik,  six  or  seven  miles  off.  The  performers 
beat  the  instruments  at  an  incredible  speed,  and  all  three  in 
exactly  the  same  time.  After  tapping  the  drums  with  their 
finger-tips  for  some  time,  all  three  would  give  a bang  at  one 
and  the  same  moment,  and  then  follow  it  up  with  half  a dozen 
hollow  whacks  with  their  fists.  Then  the  finger  tapping 
would  begin  again,  and  the  whole  process  be  repeated  with- 
out a moment’s  cessation.  Sometimes  they  sat  still  ; some- 
times they  were  so  carried  away  by  their  peculiar  music  that 
they  got  up  and  danced ; and  sometimes  again  they  tossed 
their  drums  into  the  air  and  caught  them  with  a bang.  At 
every  round,  which  lasted  five  minutes,  the  beating  recurred 
in  a certain  order,  which  explained  the  fact  that  all  three 
were  able  to  keep  time  so  well  together.  The  full  measure 
of  rounds  for  putting  evil  spirits  to  flight  is  nine;  and  once 
the  exercisers  have  begun,  it  is  impossible  to  stop  them  until 
the  “full  tale  of  bricks  is  told  !” 

The  peri-bakshis  are  called  in  mostly  at  births  and  by  sick 


ON  THE  THRl<:sH()LI)  OF  TUE  DITSERT  473 


women;  for  the  women  are  much  more  superstitious  than 
the  men.  'I'lie  exorcisers  enter  the  sick-room,  and  gaze  at- 
tentively into  the  tiame  of  the  oil-lam]),  where  they  say  they 
can  .see  that  the  woman  is  j)osse.ssed  of  an  evil  sj)irit.  Then 
the  drums  begin  at  once,  while  the  invalid’s  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances gather  inside  and  outside  the  room.  But  the 
])crformance  does  not  end  there.  W hen  the  last  thundering 
roll  of  the  drum  has  died  away,  the  assembly  withdraws,  and 
the  ])eri-bakshi,  and  the  sick  woman  are  left  alone  in  the  room 
together.  In  the  middle  of  the  door  the  sorcerer  drives  a 
rod  with  great  force,  having  a rope  tied  to  the  top  of  it,  while 
its  other  end  is  fastened  to  the  ceiling.  The  woman  j)ulls 
and  tugs  at  the  rope  until  she  succeeds  in  getting  it  loose, 
while  the  peri-bakshi  bangs  at  his  drum.  The  moment  the 
rope  breaks  loose  from  the  roof,  the  spirit  departs  from  the 
woman. 

The  hunting  falcon,  too,  is  credited  with  similar  j)owers  of 
exorcism,  and  is  therefore  called  gimsh-bakshi  (the  falcon  e.x- 
orciser).  The  peris  or  evil  spirits  are  supposed  to  fear  her 
greatly.  During  the  pangs  of  childbirth  the  woman  sees 
evil  spirits  flitting  about  the  room,  though  they  are  invisible 
to  other  people.  The  falcon,  however,  sees  them,  and  is  let 
loose  in  the  room  to  chase  them  out.  It  is  very  evident  that 
the  falcon,  the  drums,  and  the  rope  and  stick  all  tend  to 
the  same  end — namely,  to  distract  the  woman’s  attention  to 
a certain  extent,  and  so  make  her  forget  herself. 

March  26th.  Niaz  Beg  administered  justice  at  his  own 
house  every  day.  His  usual  seat  was  beside  one  of  the  col- 
umns which  supported  the  roof  of  the  veranda,  and  so  long 
as  the  proceedings  lasted  he  assumed  a very  severe  expres- 
sion of  countenance.  On  the  platform  by  his  side  sat  his 
mirza  or  secretary,  who  entered  the  proceedings  in  a proto- 
col. Round  about  him  stood  his  men  and  the  officers  of  the 
law,  and  before  him  the  culprit. 

To-day  there  was  a very  curious  case.  A man  had  five 
wives.  The  fifth,  a handsome,  stalwart  young  woman,  had 
run  away  to  Kashgar  with  another  man.  The  beg  had  given 
information  to  the  authorities  there,  and  they  found  the  worn- 


474 


THROUGH  ASIA 


an  and  sent  her  back  to  Merket,  where  she  was  now  to  an- 
swer for  her  transgressions.  After  she  had  been  convicted 
of  unfaithfulness,  the  beg  gave  her  a slap  on  either  cheek, 
and  she  began  to  weep.  The  only  thing  she  had  to  say  in 
her  own  defence  was  that  life  with  the  other  four  wives  was 
altogether  unbearable.  She  had  a knife  on  her  person,  and 
when  the  beg  asked  her  what  she  was  going  to  do  with  it, 
she  answered  that  she  meant  to  kill  herself  if  she  were  com- 
pelled to  return  to  her  husband.  Her  punishment  was  that 
for  a time  she  should  go  and  dwell  with  the  mollahs,  till  she 
should  be  in  a better  frame  of  mind,  and  then  should  cjuietly 
return  home  to  her  husband. 

After  that  another  young  woman  was  brought  forward,  her 
face  bleeding  and  lacerated,  and  followed  by  her  mother  and 
her  husband.  She  also  had  left  her  husband;  but  in  this 
case  the  man  had  taken  the  law  into  his  own  hands,  and  had 
cruelly  kicked  and  mishandled  her.  Several  witnesses  con- 
firmed the  statement  that  he  had  made  use  of  a razor;  this, 
however,  the  defendant  denied.  To  make  him  confess,  the 
beg  gave  orders  for  his  hands  to  be  tied  behind  his  back,  and 
then  had  him  strung  up  to  the  branch  of  a tree.  He  did  not 
hang  there  long  before  the  device  produced  the  desired 
effect.  The  man  was  taken  down,  and  forty  strokes  of  the 
rod  were  administered  on  that  part  of  the  body  which  seems 
to  have  been  providentially  provided  for  castigation.  Mean- 
while he  declared  that  his  wife  had  beaten  him  on  the  back. 
Forthwith  he  was  stripped ; but  as  no  marks  were  visible,  a 
second  whipping  was  the  result. 

In  these  distant  regions  the  sense  of  justice  is  somewhat 
elastic.  If  the  accused  has  a well-lined  ])urse  he  gets  off 
scot-free,  and  in  any  case  the  beg  receives  certain  tengeh 
for  his  trouble.  If  the  plaintiff  is  not  satisfied  with  the  ver- 
dict, he  can  appeal  to  a higher  authority  — the  nearest  Chi- 
nese mandarin — and  to  him  the  beg  must  answer  in  his  turn. 
The  Chinese  administration  is  admirable.  One  j^rudent  feat- 
ure in  it  is  that  they  allow  the  natives  to  retain  the  same 
system  of  local  self-government  which  obtained  in  the  time 
of  Yakub  Heg  of  Kashgar. 

O O 


ON  TllH  TI1RI-:S110LD  OF  TI11<:  DKSFRT  475 


Cases  of  conjuu:al  infidelity  are  not  on  the  whole  uncom- 
mon, nor  are  they  |)unished  with  particular  severity.  .As  a 
rule,  the  woman  has  her  face  blacked,  is  placed  backward 
on  a male  ass,  and  with  her  hands  tied  behind  her  is  taken 
through  the  streets  and  bazaar  of  the  village.  Monogamy  is 
the  rule;  it  is  very  seldom  that  a man  has  four  or  five  wives. 
If  a woman  marries  a Chinaman  or  a Iiuropean  she  is  con- 
sidered impure;  and  when  she  dies  is  not  interred  in  the 
general  burial-ground  of  the  place,  because  she  has  consorted 
with  “ one  who  eats  swine’s  fiesh."  so  that  her  body  would 
pollute  the  graves  of  the  faithful. 

Wdth  reiiard  to  /calhii,  or  the  dower  of  a bride,  the  customs 
of  these  people  are  much  the  same  as  those  of  the  Kirghiz. 
The  kalim  is  j)aid  to  the  bride’s  i)arents,  and  varies  according 
to  the  man’s  circumstances  and  means.  A bai,  or  rich  man, 
gi\es  as  much  as  two  jambaus  (^9  to  £10  each).  As  a rule 
everything  is  paid  in  kind;  but  the  bride’s  trousseau  is  com- 
pulsory kalim.  A poor  man  offers  merely  a measure  of  food 
and  clothes.  The  amount  depends  entirely  upon  the  de- 
mands of  the  parents ; but  beauty  and  physical  charms  are 
of  less  importance  than  among  the  Kirghiz.  If  a young 
couple  cannot  obtain  the  consent  of  their  parents,  it  is  not 
unusual  for  them  to  run  away,  d'hey  generally  come  back, 
however,  after  a few  months,  and  invite  the  old  people  to  a 
feast,  when  all  misunderstandings  are  cleared  up. 

On  another  occasion  the  beg  gave  judgment  on  two  men 
who  had  been  gambling.  One  of  them  had  a deep  gash  in 
his  ear,  and  the  whole  of  his  face  and  chest  were  covered 
with  blood.  He  had  lost  seven  tengeh  (ij-.  6d.),  and  prom- 
ised to  procure  the  money  in  the  bazaar.  The  winner,  how- 
ever, demanded  his  winnings  on  the  spot,  whereupon  the 
loser  drew  his  knife  and  slashed  himself  on  the  ear,  crying, 
“ You  shall  have  that  instead  of  your  money.”  The  beg 
ordered  the  winner  to  be  publicly  whipped.  The  other  man 
was  to  be  whipped  as  soon  as  his  hurt  was  cured.  The  win- 
nings, needless  to  say,  found  their  way  into  the  beg’s  pocket. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


THE  START  FROM  MERKET 

Islam  and  Yakub  came  back  on  April  8th.  After  a great 
deal  of  haggling  and  trouble,  they  had  succeeded  in  getting 
at  Kargalik  eight  splendid  male  camels  for  a trifle  over  ^6 
lOi'.  apiece.  It  had  somehow  got  wind  among  the  inhabi- 
tants that  we  absolutely  must  have  camels  for  our  desert 
journey ; and  in  consequence  they  put  up  their  prices  to 
double  or  three  times  what  they  usually  were.  A further 
difficulty  arose  out  of  the  fact  that  the  only  animals  which 
would  serve  our  purpose  must  be  such  as  were  accustomed 
to  the  level  plains,  and  to  travelling  in  desert  regions — 
animals  which  were  used  to  moving  over  sand  and  could 
endure  heat  and  other  privations.  These  qualities  were  of 
much  more  consequence  than  the  appearance  of  the  beasts, 
and  their  condition  of  flesh. 

During  the  morning  we  christened  the  camels,  and  meas- 
ured their  girths  between  the  humps,  with  the  \'iew  of  ascer- 
taining how  they  would  compare  in  that  respect  at  the  end 
of  the  journey.  Here  are  the  names  and  measurements  of 
the  several  animals: 


Name  Age  Girth 

.\k  tuya  (The  White  Camel) 8 7ft.  Qin. 

Boghra  ('I’he  Male) 4 7ft.  8.]in. 

Nahr  ('I’he  'hall) 2 7ft.  4.Jin. 

Babai  (The  Old) 15  7ft.  5. Bn. 

Chong-kara  {'I'he  Big  Black) 3 7ft.  3iin. 

Kityick-kara  (The  I.ittle  Black) 2 7ft.  3in. 

Chong-sarik  ('I’he  Big  \'ellow)  2 7ft.  6Bn. 

Kityick-sarik  (The  Little  Yellow)  ....  1 .t  7ft. 


How  little  we  foresaw  that  only  one  camel — namely,  Chong- 


rilK  START  FROM  MFRKKT 


477 


kara — would  survive  the  journey!  Ak-tuya,  a handsome  white 
camel,  which  led  the  string,  with  a big  copper  bell  jirovided 
with  a heavy  iron  tongue,  did  get  to  the  other  side  of  the 
desert;  bu!:  he  died  soon  afterwards  from  the  fatigues  of  the 
march.  Hoghra  was  an  c-xcej^tionally  well-proportioned  ani- 
mal, i)atient  and  good-tempered  ; I chose  him  to  ride  upon. 
Nahr  was  a vicious  beast, 
always  trying  to  bite  and 
kick  the  moment  any- 
body went  near  him. 

Habai,  the  oldest  in  the 
trooj),  and  of  a gray 
color,  was  the  first  to 
succumb.  The  other 
three  were  young,  lively 
things ; having  had  a 
long  rest,  they  were  al- 
ways ready  to  march,  and 
took  real  pleasure  in  be- 
ing on  the  move. 

They  chanced  to  be 
just  “moulting”  when 
they  arrived.  Every  day 
big  shaggy  cots  of  their 
thick,  warm  winter  hair 
fell  off,  so  that  they  had  a patched,  shabby  appearance  so 
long  as  the  process  of  shedding  lasted.  E!ach  camel  was  pro- 
vided with  a good  soft  pack  - saddle,  stuffed  with  hay  and 
straw.  Islam  brought  also  a whole  armful  of  arkhans  (ropes 
of  camel’s  hair)  to  tie  on  the  baggage  with,  and  three  large 
camel-bells. 

The  animals  were  tethered  in  a large  court-yard  immedi- 
ately opposite  Niaz  Beg's  house,  and  were  given  their  fill  of 
good  hay,  a luxury  they  enjoyed  for  the  last  time.  It  was 
very  pleasant  to  stand  and  watch  my  own  splendid  camels 
crouched  on  the  ground,  eagerly  munching  the  fragrant  hay, 
and  see  how  their  big  brown  eyes  shone  with  placid  enjoy- 
ment. Our  two  dogs — Yolldash  and  Hamrah — were, however. 


^ i)  ' ' 

'l.Oi 


A CAMEL  S HEAD 


47« 


THROUGH  ASIA 


of  a different  opinion.  The  former  in  particular  could  not 
tolerate  the  camels.  He  barked  at  them  till  he  was  hoarse; 
and  was  visibly  well  pleased  with  himself  when  he  could  get 
near  enough  to  snatch  a tuft  of  hair  out  of  one  or  the  other 
of  them. 

Islam  Bai  had  further  engaged  two  trustworthy  men  in 
Yarkand.  One,  Mohammed  Shah,  was  a graybeard  of  fifty- 
five.  He  was  accustomed  to  looking  after  camels,  and  was 
the  only  person  who  could  go  near  the  refractory  Nahr  with- 
out being  bitten.  Although  he  had  left  wife  and  children 
behind  in  Yarkand,  the  desert  had  no  terrors  for  him.  He 
was  a capital  fellow,  as  honest  as  the  day.  I can  see  him 
now  as  plainly  as  though  it  were  only  yesterday  we  parted. 
His  philosophic  serenity  never  deserted  him.  When  the 

clouds  of  misfortune  cjathered 
thick  round  our  ill-fated  cara- 
van, his  good  humor  never 
failed ; there  was  always  a 
smile  on  his  face.  Even  when 
he  lay  in  the  delirium  of  death, 
a gleam  of  triumphant  serenity 
shone  in  his  eyes,  and  the  light 
of  an  inward  peace  spread  over 
his  withered,  copper  - brown 
countenance. 

The  second  man,  who  was  to 
help  in  the  management  of  the 
camels,  was  Kasim  Akhun,  a 
native  of  .\k-su,  but  at  that 
time  an  inhabitant  of  Yar- 
kand, forty-eight  )cars  of  age, 
unmarried,  and  a caravan-lead- 
er by  profession.  Of  medium  height  and  strongly  built,  with 
a black  beard,  he  was  of  a serious  disposition,  and  never 
laughed,  though  alwa)'s  friendly  and  pleasant;  but  he  had 
very  often  to  be  reminded  of  his  duties. 

We  wanted  yet  another  man.  Him  Niaz  Beg  found  for  us 
in  another  Kasim  Akhun  from  Yamihi-hissar.  He  was  of 

O 


THK  START  FROM  MKRKET 


479 


the  same  age  as  Mohammed  Shah,  and  every  spring,  for  six 
years  past,  had  gone  a ten  to  fourteen  days’  journey  into  the 
desert  in  quest  of  gold,  taking  his  food  on  the  back  of  an  ass, 
but  not  venturing  farther  in  than  he  was  able  t(j  get  water  by 
digging.  During  our  journey,  in  order  to  distinguish  him 
from  the  other  Kasim,  we  called  him  sometimes  Yollchi  (the 
pointer  out  of  the  road),  sometimes  Kumchi  (the  man  of  the 
desert;.  A few  years  previously  he  had  flitted  to  Merket, 
and  now  left  wife  and  grown-up  children  there  behind  him. 

I lis  subsequent  fate  was  in  part  of  his  own  causing.  He  was 
brutal  and  of  a violent  temper;  and  the  other  men,  whom  he 
attempted  to  tyrannize  over,  soon  came  to  hate  him.  I le 
conceived  that  his  experience  of  the  desert  warranted  him  in 
assuming  a domineering  tone;  and  he  entertained  an  especial 
grudge  against  Islam  Hai,  because  Islam  was  ajjpointed  kara- 
van-bashi,  ov  caravan  - leader,  and  the  other  three  men  were 
bidden  obey  him.  Some  of  the  inhabitants  of  Merket  warned 
us  against  this  man,  telling  us  that  he  had  been  more  than 
once  punished  for  theft;  but  the  warning  came  too  late. 
When  I engaged  him  I thought  we  had  lighted  upon  a treas- 
ure-trove, for  he  was  the  only  man  in  the  place  who  knew 
anything  of  the  desert. 

Our  menagerie  of  live-stock  also  embraced  three  sheep, 
which  we  intended  to  kill  one  after  the  other,  half  a score 
hens  and  a cock,  which  woke  us  up  in  the  morning.  These 
last  travelled  in  a basket  perched  on  the  top  of  a camel’s-load 
of  baggage.  The  first  few  days  the  hens  laid  two  or  three 
eggs ; but  as  soon  as  the  water  began  to  fail,  they  stopped 
laying.  The  cock  was  an  eccentric  animal ; he  entertained  a 
rooted  objection  to  riding  on  a camel’s  back.  Every  now 
and  again  he  used  to  wriggle  through  the  covering  of  the 
basket;  and,  after  balancing  himself  a while  on  his  elevated 
perch,  flew  down  to  the  ground  with  a noisy  cackle.  Every 
time  we  pitched  camp  the  poultry  were  let  out  for  a run. 
They  imparted  a little  life  to  the  otherwise  desolate  surround- 
ings; and  a few  handfuls  of  corn  were  thrown  down  among 
the  sand,  to  keep  them  employed  and  in  motion. 

On  April  9th  we  made  our  final  preparations ; we  packed 


480 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  two  or  three  bags  of  bread  which  had  been  ordered  be- 
forehand, and  filled  the  four  iron  tanks  with  fresh  water  from 
the  river.  They  held  17U  19,  19,  ^nd  27  gallons  respective- 
ly; add  to  this  ly.l  gallons  in  a goat-skin,  and  we  get  a total 
of  100  gallons,  amply  sufficient  for  a 25  days’  march.  The 
tanks,  which  were  oblong  in  shape,  were  specially  made  for 
conveying  honey  from  India  to  Yarkand,  being  surrounded 
by  a wooden  grating  to  protect  the  thin  iron  plates  against 
damage  from  knocks.  Grass  and  weeds  were  packed  in  be- 
tween the  tank  and  the  grating  to  prevent  the  sun’s  rays  from 
beating  directly  upon  the  iron. 

A few  words  about  the  plan  of  my  journey.  Przhevalsky, 
and  Carey  and  Ualgleish,  were  the  first  Europeans  who  ever 
saw  (1885)  the  mountains  of  Masar-tagh  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  Khotan-daria.  The  first  mentioned  wrote  in  this  connec- 
tion: “After  three  short  day’s  marches  (from  Tavek-kel)  we 
arrived  at  that  part  of  the  Khotan-daria  where  the  Masar- 
tagh  chain  overlooks  its  left  bank.  The  eastern  portion  of 
the  range  does  not  exceed  H niiles  in  breadth,  and  rises  to  a 
height  of  some  500  feet  above  the  surrounding  country.  It 
consists  of  two  parallel  ridges  strikingly  dissimilar.  The  south- 
ern ridge  is  composed  of  red  argillaceous  slates,  interspersed 
with  numerous  beds  of  gypsum.  The  other,  or  northern 
rids^e,  is  a homosreneous  mass  of  white  alabaster.  Flints  are 
obtained  from  the  Masar-tagh  at  a distance  of  16  miles  from 
the  Khotan-daria,  and  taken  to  Khotan  to  be  sold.  Beyond 
that  point  we  lost  sight  of  the  mountains,  which  became 
blended  with  the  sandy  desert.  But  they  bent  round  tow- 
ards the  northwest,  and,  increasing  in  height  in  the  middle, 
stretched,  the  natives  told  me,  as  far  as  the  fortified  jmst  of 
Maral-bashi  on  the  river  of  Kashgar.  Of  vegetation  there 
was  not  a trace.  The  sloj^es  of  the  mountains  were  buried 
in  drift-sand  half  way  up  from  the  foot.” 

Relying  upon  the  data  thus  given  him  by  the  natives, 
Przhevalsky  indicated  on  his  map  a chain  of  mountains 
stretching  at  an  oblique  angle  across  the  desert.  His  mis- 
take was  natural  enough;  for  he  was  told  that  at  Maral-bashi, 
too,  there  is  a mountain  known  by  the  name  of  Masar-tagh  ; 


T11I«:  START  FROM  MKRKin' 


4S1 

and  what  more  natural  than  to  sui)pose  that  it  was  simply  the 
continuation  of  the  Masar-tagh  of  the  Khotan-daria  ? Carey 
was  more  cautious.  Ilis  map  shows  only  .so  much  of  the 
range  as  he  was  able  to  see  from  the  river. 

1 reasoned,  therefore,  that  if  from  Merket  we  steered  our 
course  eastward,  or  rather  towards  the  cast-northeast,  we  were 
bound,  sooner  or  later,  to  come  in  contact  with  the  Masar- 
tagh  ; and,  like  the  natives,  I was  convinced  that  we  should 
find  a lee  side  to  the  range,  where  the  drift-sand  would  not  be 
blown  together,  but  we  should  be  able  to  make  long,  ca.sy 
day’s  marches  on  firm  ground,  and  possibly  might  even  dis- 
cover springs  and  vegetation,  and  perchance  light  u])on  traces 
of  an  ancient  civilization.  On  the  maps  which  1 had  at  hand 
the  distance  through  the  desert,  as  the  crow  flies,  measured 
1 80  miles;  and  if  we  did  only  1 2 miles  a day  the  entire  journey 
ought  not  to  take  us  more  than  fifteen  days.  Our  supj)ly  of 
water  was  therefore,  by  every  calculation,  more  than  sufficient. 
I was  quite  satisfied  with  my  estimate,  and  thought  we  had  an 
easy  task  before  us.  As  an  actual  fact  the  journey  took  26 
days,  or  nearly  twice  as  long  as  1 antici])ated. 

April  loth.  Rong  before  sunrise  the  court -yard  was  all 
alive.  Our  various  boxes,  bales,  and  other  impedimenta  were 
carried  out  and  weighed  so  that  the  camel’s  burdens  might 
be  suitably  adjusted,  and  the  several  j^ackages  properly  roped. 
These  preliminaries  over,  they  were  placed  along  the  ground 
two  by  two,  at  such  distances  apart  that  a camel  could  just 
get  between  them,  and  be  made  to  kneel  down  while  his  load 
was  fastened  to  his  pack-saddle.  After  he  got  up  on  his  feet, 
a big  rope  was  lashed  criss-cross  right  round  the  whole,  and 
fastened  to  the  horizontal  bars  in  the  framework  of  the  pack- 
saddle.  We  took  with  us  an  extensive  equipment,  provisions 
for  several  months,  particularly  rice  and  bread,  preserved  foods, 
sugar,  tea,  vegetables,  flour,  and  so  forth.  In  addition,  we 
had  a large  supply  of  winter  clothing,  felts,  and  carpets;  for, 
after  leaving  the  Khotan-daria,  I intended  making  for  Tibet. 
Then  I had  my  scientific  instruments, photographic  apparatus, 
with  close  upon  a thousand  plates,  some  books,  a year’s  issue 
of  a Swedish  journal,  of  which  I purposed  reading  one  num- 
I— 31 


482 


THROUGH  ASIA 


ber  every  evening,  a cooking  - stove  with  its  appurtenances, 
metal  utensils,  crockery,  three  rifles,  six  revolv'ers,  a supply  of 
ammunition  packed  in  two  heavy  boxes,  together  with  a mul- 
titude of  other  things.  Add  to  all  this  water  supplies  for  25 
days,  and  it  will  be  clear  that  each  camel  had  a pretty  heavy 
load  to  carry. 

While  the  animals  were  being  loaded,  I measured  my  first 
base  - line  of  400  meters  (close  upon  a quarter  of  a mile). 
Boghra  walked  it  in  five  and  a half  minutes.  This  was  a 
daily  recurring  task,  for  the  contours  of  the  ground  varied  a 
good  deal;  and  the  depth  of  the  sand  made  a very  appreciable 
difference  in  the  time  the  camels  took  to  do  the  same  distance. 

The  loth  of  April,  1895,  was  a great  day  in  the  annals  of 
Merket.  The  court-yard,  every  alley,  every  house-roof  in  the 
neighborhood,  was  crowded  with  people,  all  anxious  to  see  us 
off.  “They  will  never  come  back  again — never!”  we  heard 
them  cry  one  to  another.  “ The  camels  are  too  heavily  laden  ; 
they  will  never  get  through  the  deep  sand.”  These  croakings 
did  not  disturb  me  in  the  least.  The  ground  burned  under 
my  feet  to  get  off.  And  we  had  an  antidote  to  their  ill- 
omened  prophecies  in  the  action  of  the  Hindus,  who,  just  as 
I put  my  camel  in  motion,  flung  a few  handfuls  of  da-tien 
(Chinese  bronze  money  with  a square  hole  in  the  middle) 
over  my  head,  crying,  “ Good-luck  go  with  you!” 

The  camels  were  tied  together  in  two  strings  of  four  each. 
A piece  of  stick  was  thrust  through  the  cartilage  of  the 
animal’s  nose.  A rope,  fastened  to  one  end  of  the  stick, 
was  loosely  knotted  to  the  tail  of  the  camel  in  front  in  such 
wise  that  if  the  second  camel  fell  the  knot  would  come  undone 
of  itself. 

The  other  end  of  the  piece  of  stick  terminated  in  a knob, 
which  prevented  it  from  slipping  out  of  the  animal’s  nose. 
The  four  young  camels  went  in  the  first  string.  After  them 
followed  Boghra,  with  me  on  his  back,  and  behind  him  Bahai, 
Ak-tuya,  and  Nahr.  Mohammed  Shah  never  left  hold  of 
Boghra’s  bridle,  so  that  I had  no  need  to  trouble  myself  in 
the  least  about  my  camel,  but  gave  my  attention  wholly  and 
undivided  to  my  compass  and  watch,  by  which  I steered  our 


rilK  START  FROM  MFRKKT 


4'^  3 

course  and  measured  the  length  of  our  day’s  march,  and  to 
the  observation  of  the  country  we  were  travelling  through. 
Islam  Hai  had  shown  much  ingenuity  in  arranging  my  load 
for  me.  It  consisted  of  the  two  bo.xes  which  held  my  most 
delicate  instruments,  and  such  things  as  I generally  needed 
when  we  encamped  for  the  night.  On  the  top  of  the  boxes 
and  between  the  camel’s  hump  he  spread  pelts,  carjDets,  and 
cushions,  so  that  with  one  logon  each  side  of  the  front  hump 
I rode  as  comfortably  as  though  I were  sitting  in  an  easy- 
chair.  W’hen  all  was  c|uite  ready  I said  good-bye  to  Niaz 
Beg,  whom  I rewarded  handsomely,  as  well  as  to  the  mis- 
sionary Johannes  and  Ilashim.  The  former  had  already  said 
at  Lailik  that  he  did  not  really  mean  to  go  with  me  through 
'I'akla-makan.  Now,  when  he  saw  the  caravan  ready  to  start, 
his  courage  completely  failed  him,  and  for  the  second  time 
he  deserted  me  in  the  moment  when  danger  had  really  to  be 
faced.  I despised  the  fellow.  Notwithstanding  his  pretended 
piety,  he  utterly  lacked  the  courage  which  makes  a man  place 
all  his  reliance  upon  God.  What  a strange  contrast  to  Islam 
Bai,  the  Mohammedan,  the  beau-ideal  of  a good  and  faithful 
servant,  who  throughout  the  days  and  months  that  followed 
never  once  hesitated  to  follow  his  master,  no  matter  where  I 
went,  even  when  I rushed  into  dangers  which  prudence  should 
properly  have  guarded  me  against! 

Spring  had  come.  vSigns  of  the  change  manifested  them- 
selves more  and  more  every  day.  The  temperature  rose 
slowly  but  steadily,  the  minimum  remaining  permanently 
above  freezing-point.  The  sun  began  to  have  some  power. 
The  spring  breezes  murmured  in  our  ears.  The  fields  were 
being  sown  with  corn,  the  rice  - grounds  put  under  water. 
The  air  was  alive  with  the  flittinsrs  and  buzzings  of  flies  and 

O O 

other  insects.  It  was  with  this  beautiful  Asiatic  spring-time 
all  about  us — the  season  of  perennial  hope — that  we  set  out 
on  our  journey  to  the  country  where  all  things  are  gripped  in 
the  deathly  embrace  of  a thousand  years’  torpor,  where  every 
sand-dune  is  a grave — a country  whose  climate  is  such  that, 
compared  with  it,  the  sternest  winter  would  be  a smiling  spring. 

On  through  the  narrow  lanes  of  the  town,  crowded  with 


484 


THROUGH  ASIA 


people,  strode  the  long  string  of  camels,  with  a grave  and 
majestic  mien,  holding  their  heads  high.  It  was  a solemn 
moment.  Every  spectator  was  impressed.  A dead  silence 
reigned  throughout  the  crowd.  When  my  mind  goes  back 
to  that  moment  I am  involuntarily  reminded  of  a funeral 
procession.  I can  hear  the  dull,  monotonous  clang  of  the 
caravan-bells  still  ringing  in  my  ears  ; and  of  a truth  their 
slow,  mournful  cadences  were  the  virtual  passing-bell  of  most 
of  us  who  set  forth  on  that  eventful  day  for  the  sand-wastes 
of  the  terrible  desert.  A sad  and  peaceful  grave  amid  the 
eternal  ocean  of  sand — such  was  to  be  their  melancholy  end! 

The  environs  of  the  town  were  level,  the  town  itself  scat- 
tered about  among  the  old  tograks  (poplars),  fields,  groves, 
orchards,  and  irrigation  canals.  For  half  an  hour  or  so  we 
marched  on  quietly  through  these  pleasant  surroundings; 
then  all  of  a sudden  there  arose  a fearful  uproar.  The  two 
youngest  camels,  being  full  of  spirit,  broke  loose  from  their 
halters,  shook  off  their  loads,  and,  frisky  as  two  playful  pup- 
pies, began  to  race  round  the  fields  till  the  dust  rose  in  clouds 
behind  them.  One  had  been  loaded  with  a couple  of  water- 
tanks.  Upon  being  thrown  off,  one  tank  sprang  a leak,  but, 
luckily,  near  the  top  corner,  so  that  but  little  real  damage  was 
done.  The  runaways  were  soon  caught  and  their  burdens 
lashed  on  again.  After  that  each  was  led  separately,  for  we 
had  plenty  of  help,  fully  a hundred  mounted  men  accompany- 
ino;  us  to  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  An  hour  later  two 
other  camels  bi'okc  loose.  Several  things  were  chafed  and 
bruised,  and  the  ammunition-bo.x  w^as  trailed  on  the  ground. 
Mohammed  Shah  said  that  “camels  always  get  refractory  after 
a spell  of  rest.  'I'hey  wanted  to  stretch  their  limbs  ; but  a few' 
days’  steady  tramping  would  make  them  as  quiet  as  lambs.” 
After  that,  as  a jn'ecaution,  each  camel  w'as  led  by  a single  man. 

But  even  then,  as  so  often  happens  during  the  first  day  or 
two  after  starting  on  an  e.xpedition,  we  had  several  unforeseen 
hinderanccs  to  contend  against,  b'or  example,  the  left-hand 
side  of  a camel’s  load  would  be  heavier  than  that  on  the 
right-hand,  and  so  had  to  be  adjusted;  or  a bag  of  rice  wms  on 
the  point  of  slipi)ing  off,  and  had  to  be  tied  faster;  and  so  on. 


CHAPTHR  XL 


SKIRTING  '1' H K DESERT 

The  second  clay’s  march  passed  off  more  ciuietly,  and  in  a 
much  more  orderly  manner.  Profitin<j  from  our  first  day's 
experiences,  we  weighed  and  distributed  the  packages  more 
successfully,  and  loaded  our  most  precious  possessions — first 
among  them  the  water — on  the  cpiietest  camels.  1 myself 
sat  perched  at  a j)retty  good  height  aboye  the  ground,  and 
had  a splendid  yiew  in  eyery  direction.  At  first  the  motion 
made  me  feel  somewhat  giddy ; but  I soon  became  accus- 
tomed to  the  monotonous  and  unceasing  jolting  backward 
and  forward,  combined  with  the  peculiar  swaying  motion 
from  side  to  side,  and  suffered  no  ill  effects  from  it  whatcyer. 
But  I can  readily  belieye  it  would  be  very  disagreeable  to 
anybody  subject  to  sea-sickness. 

Having  left  behind  us  the  last  house  and  field  belonging 
to  Merket,  we  struck  into  a level  steppe  where  thick- 

ets and  tangled  bushes  grew  pretty  well  everywhere,  and  there 
were  even  clumps  of  poplars  in  a few  places.  The  wind  blew 
in  gusts  from  the  west-northwest,  and  grayish-yellow  “sand- 
spouts ” drifted  eastward  at  a great  altitude,  their  upper  ends 
sliohtly  bent  over  in  the  direction  of  the  wind.  The  surface 

O > 

of  the  ground  was  partly  covered  with  fine,  soft  dust,  partly 
with  deposits  of  salt ; but  we  soon  passed  into  a region  of 
nothing  but  sand,  blown  up  into  small  low  dunes  or  ridges. 
However,  it  proved  to  be  only  a narrow  belt,  for  on  the  other 
side  we  once  more  came  upon  plenteous  plant -life,  chiefly 
kamish  (reeds)  and  poplars;  and  there  on  the  brink  of  the 
ravine  we  pitched  our  camp  for  the  night. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  loads  were  all  off  the  camels,  and 
the  animals  themselves  were  tied  together  in  a ring  to  pre- 


486 


THROUGH  ASIA 


vent  them  from  lying  down  and  getting  stiff-legged.  After 
standing  a couple  of  hours,  they  were  let  loose  to  browse 
upon  the  thickets  of  reeds.  Our  camp,  with  its  many  pack- 
ages and  animals,  made  a very  picturesque  appearance  ; and 
it  gave  me  a feeling  of  deep  satisfaction  to  think  that  all 
those  things  were  mine.  My  tent,  a neat  Indian  officer’s  tent 
which  Mr.  Macartney  had  given  me,  was  pitched  underneath 
a poplar -tree.  Within  it  young  Lieutenant  Davison  had 
died  during  his  journey  across  the  Pamirs  to  Kashgar.  But 
it  liad  been  well  disinfected,  and  I was  not  superstitious. 
The  ground  inside  was  covered  with  variegated  carpet,  and 
all  round  its  sides  were  ranged  my  boxes,  instrument-cases, 
photographic  camera,  and  my  plain,  simple  bedstead.  The 
other  boxes  and  packages,  together  with  the  water -tanks, 
were  left  outside  in  the  open  air.  My  men  kindled  a fire, 
and  crouched  around  it  to  prepare  dinner — rice  pudding  and 
eggs,  for  of  these  last  we  had  brought  a good  supply.  The 
sheep  were  turned  out  to  graze,  and  the  poultry  made  them- 
selves quite  at  home  among  the  scraps  from  the  cooking-pot. 
d'he  dogs,  having  swallowed  the  pieces  of  meat  that  were 
thrown  to  them,  began  to  chase  one  another  over  the  sand- 
dunes.  In  a word,  we  made  quite  a rural  picture. 

As  soon  as  the  camp  was  settled,  my  first  care  was  to  ex- 
amine the  ravine  which  had  stopped  us.  It  ran  from  north 
to  south,  and  had  undoubtedly  been  formed  by  a branch  of 
the  Tisnab-daria,  but  was  now  dry.  It  was  20  feet  wide  and 

5 feet  deep ; and  when  I bade  the  men  dig  a hole  in  the  bot- 
tom, the  water  began  to  trickle  up  as  soon  as  they  got  3 feet 

6 inches  down.  The  temperature  of  the  water  was  49.8°  P'ahr. 
(9.9°  C.),  while  that  of  the  air  at  the  same  time — viz.,  two 
o’clock  in  the  afternoon — was  76.6°  P'ahr.  (24.8°  C.).  Although 
tasting  bitter  and  nauseous,  it  was  greedily  drunk  by  both 
dogs  and  sheep.  The  camels  were  not  allowed  any  water 
until  nearly  an  hour  before  the  start  next  morning. 

Prom  the  very  outset  we  were  obliged  to  exercise  the 
most  rigid  economy  with  our  supplies  of  fresh  water;  and 
therefore  used  the  water  from  the  ravine  for  boiling  our  eggs 
in,  for  washing  the  dishes,  and  for  j)crsonal  ablutions.  Mo- 


SKIRTING  THH  DKSHRT 


487 


hammed  Yakub,  who  liad  followed  us  all  the  way  to  camp, 
brought  us  the  very  welcome  j)reseut  of  a couj)le  of  co})per 
vessels,  filled  with  fresh  river-water;  so  that  every  member  of 
the  caravan  was  able  to  quench  his  thirst  to  the  full  without 
our  having  to  open  the  water-tanks. 

It  had  been  a warm  day;  but  no  sooner  did  the  sun  .set 
than  we  felt  it  cool,  and  put  on  our  e.xtra  coats.  In  the  even- 
ing it  was  a dead  calm.  The  tent  flap  was  thrown  back,  but 
the  flame  from  the  candle  never  quivered.  Our  “ Desert 
Man  ” eave  us  a taste  of  his  knowledge.  I le  advised  us  at 
first  to  keep  for  some  days  to  the  right  bank  of  the  Yarkand- 
daria,  tilt  we  came  to  a mountain  called  Chackmak,  and  to  a 
large  lake,  which  was  connected  with  a river  that  flowed  to 
the  north.  To  reach  that  place  would  take  us  eighteen  days, 
and  from  there  one  day  more  would  bring  us  to  the  Masar- 
tagh,  the  loftiest  mountain  in  all  that  region.  From  the 
Masar-tagh  to  the  Khotan-daria  on  the  east  was  no  great  dis- 
tance.  North  of  Mount  Chackmak  there  was  a track  which 
the  gold  - seekers  were  accustomed  to  use,  and  which  led  to 
7S.  yagatch-nislian  or  sign-post.  Beyond  that  mark  the  desert 
was  known  by  the  name  of  Kirk-kishlak  or  the  h'orty  Towns, 
because  of  the  numerous  ruins  of  ancient  cities  which  it  con- 
tained. 

April  iith.  After  a quiet  and  refreshing  night’s  sleep  I 
awoke  before  sunrise,  and  found  the  weather  the  reverse  of 
agreeable.  A violent  nor’easter  whistled  through  the  camp, 
and  the  air  was  thick  with  dust,  so  that,  e.xcept  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  the  tent,  the  whole  landscape  was  shrouded 
in  a uniform  gray  haze. 

Unloading  the  baggage  and  putting  up  the  tent  took  ne.xt 
to  no  time  at  all;  but  to  get  everything  loaded  up  again,  and 
all  started,  required  a good  two  hours,  although  that  included 
the  preparations  for  breakfast.  The  camels  objected  to  be 
loaded;  but  afterwards,  during  the  remainder  of  the  march, 
behaved  very  well.  All  vegetation  gradually  ceased,  and  we 
lost  ourselves  in  a labyrinth  of  sand-dunes,  15  to  20  feet  high, 
and  of  irregular  formation,  though  they  had  for  the  most 
part  a north-south  strike.  We  tried  to  skirt  round  them  as 


488 


THROUGH  ASIA 


much  as  possible  ; still  there  were  a few  difficult  ridges  which 
we  were  compelled  to  go  over.  On  one  or  other  of  these 
the  camels  which  carried  the  water  fell ; luckily  it  was  only 
the  fore  legs  which  gave  way  in  each  case.  But  we  could  not 
get  the  animals  up  until  after  we  had  taken  off  their  loads : 
and  then  we  had  to  pack  them  on  again.  The  camels  were 
very  clever  at  sliding  down  the  sandy  slopes,  making  use  of 
their  hind  legs  as  a brake  in  doing  so.  In  the  middle  of  the 
day  we  got  entangled  in  sand-dunes  so  high  that  we  were 
obliged  to  make  a long  detour  to  the  north  to  get  out  of 
them.  Yollchi  asserted  that  it  was  no  use  going  east,  for 
we  should  only  be  forced  to  turn  back,  there  being  noth- 
ing in  that  direction  but  chong-kum  (big  sand).  Our  route 
that  day  was  a sinuous  line  along  the  edge  of  the  “ big  sand.” 
The  dunes  dropped  again  to  only  lo  feet  in  height,  and  oc- 
casionally we  travelled  over  soft  dus*:,  with  a tolerably  level 
surface.  And  not  a few  times  we  rode  into  a kind  of  cul-dc- 
sac  between  the  horns  of  the  crescent-shaped  dunes,  and  were 
compelled  to  turn  back.  Every  now  and  again  we  passed  a 
few  solitary  poplars  and  shrivelled  reeds,  at  which  the  camels 
snatched  as  they  rolled  on  past  them. 

The  nor’easter  blew  all  day  long ; the  sky  was  clouded 
and  gray;  and  it  was  raw  and  cold.  We  halted  at  dusk,  af- 
ter doing  about  lyf  miles,  pitched  our  camp  on  the  top  of  a 
hard,  level  dune,  where  we  had  comfortably  dry  ground  un- 
der our  feet.  Close  by  were  some  withered  poplars,  from 
which  we  obtained  fuel  for  our  fire,  and  clumps  of  reeds, 
which  furnished  fodder  for  the  camels.  These  last  were 
warm  after  their  long  tramp,  and  were  led  about  for  a time 
to  cool,  to  prevent  them  from  taking  cold. 

We  found  a spot  between  two  dunes  where  the  sand  was 
already  damp.  There  we  dug  our  well,  and  came  upon  water 
at  a depth  of  2\  feet:  its  temperature  was  49.1°  Fahr.  (9.5° 
C.),  and  it  had  the  same  brackish  flavor  as  the  water  in  the 
ravine  the  day  before. 

April  1 2th.  We  travelled  nearly  fifteen  miles,  still  along 
the  edge  of  the  great  sandy  desert,  which  sent  out  promon- 
tories to  the  north.  Several  of  these  we  were  obliged  to 


SAND-STOUM  AT  TIIK  liDCl-:  OK  TIIK  TAKLA-MAKAN  DESERT 


SKIRTING  THE  DESERT 


491 


cross  over.  In  other  respects  barren  desert  alternated  with 
narrow  belts  of  steppe,  upon  which  grew  scanty  tussocks  of 
grass,  withered  and  hard  as  glass,  and  which  snapped  off  with 
a crackling  sound  at  the  least  touch.  The  easiest  ground  to 
travel  over  was  firm,  level  sand ; but  in  several  jdaces  the 
earth  was  covered  with  a coating  of  dust,  in  which  every 
footmark  of  the  flat-footed  camels  was  sharply  outlined.  The 
dust  was  as  soft  as  wool,  and  in  two  or  three  places  so  deep 
that  the  animals  dropped  in  it  up  to  the  knees.  Sometimes 
a thin  crust  of  salt,  which  crunched  under  the  camels’  hoofs, 
was  spread  over  the  horizontal  portions  of  the  sand.  Sol- 
emnly and  slowly  the  ungainly  beasts  strode  on  one  after  the 
other,  stretching  down  their  long  necks  to  pluck  the  tussocks 
of  grass  which  grew  within  their  reach,  as  though  they  had 
a premonition  of  the  hard  times  in  store  for  them. 

At  camp  No.  III.  two  of  the  men  as  usual  dug  a well ; but 
could  not  get  down  lower  than  si.\  feet.  Still  there  was  no 
water.  W’e  then  left  the  well  to  itself  for  a couple  of  hours, 
and  the  water  percolated  through  and  gathered  in  a little 
pool  at  the  bottom  of  the  hole.  The  dogs  and  poultry  were 
always  deeply  interested  spectators  of  the  digging.  They 
knew  perfectly  well  what  it  was  for,  and  were  always  fear- 
fully thirsty.  So  far  all  was  going  well : our  precious  stores 
were  as  yet  untouched.  The  stock  of  camel’s  provender  was 
likewise  undiminished,  the  animals  having  to  content  them- 
selves with  kamish  (reeds)  and  brackish  water.  The  dogs 
were  fed  on  bread,  the  poultry  on  corn  and  egg-shells.  The 
first  day  the  hens  laid  three  eggs,  the  second  day  two,  the 
third  one.  However,  we  had  a good  supply  without  that, 
packed  away  in  chaff  in  a basket. 

During  the  course  of  the  day  we  came  across  the  track  of 
herds  of  antelopes  going  towards  the  southeast.  Yollchi  told 
us  there  was  a large  lake  in  that  direction  called  Yeshil-kul 
(the  Green  Lake).  But  neither  he  nor  any  other  person 
known  to  him  had  ever  seen  it ; he  had  only  heard  speak  of 
it,  so  that  the  information  must  be  accepted  for  what  it  is 
worth.  He  added  that  it  was  fed  by  natural  springs,  for  no 
stream  ran  into  it.  It  is,  however,  remarkable  that  the  older 


492 


THROUGH  ASIA 


maps  show  a lake  of  that  name;  but  it  is  given  a different 
situation — namely,  south-southwest  from  our  camp  No.  HI. 

April  1 3th.  By  the  morning  there  were  seven  inches  of 
water  in  the  bottom  of  the  well.  All  day  long,  during  a march 
of  12J  miles,  we  travelled  continuously  among  the  sand-dunes. 
They  were  all  crescent-shaped,  with  their  convex  side  tow- 
ards the  east,  and  the  horns  or  wings  and  the  steeper  face 
looking  towards  the  west  or  southwest;  proving  that  at  that 
season  of  the  year  the  prevailing  winds  blew  from  the  east 
and  northeast. 

Poplar-trees  were  common  everywhere  throughout  the  day’s 
march.  On  some  of  them  the  leaf-buds  were  already  begin- 
ning to  burst ; and  the  fresh  green  tufts  made  the  camels’ 
mouths  water.  In  most  cases  the  dunes  seemed  to  shun  the 
poplars,  but  formed  a circular  wall  round  them,  leaving  the 
trees  in  the  middle  of  the  hollow.  There,  too,  finding  shelter 
from  the  wind,  dried  branches  and  withered  leaves  lay  in  lit- 
tle heaps. 

It  was  a warm  day.  The  dogs  hunted  vainly  for  water, 
eagerly  running  towards  every  little  depression  which  looked 
at  all  like  the  places  in  which  we  dug  our  desert  wells.  Pol- 
lack of  better  protection  from  the  sun,  they  lay  down  in  the 
shade  of  every  poplar  we  passed,  having  first  scratched  away 
the  top  layer  of  hot  sand,  till  they  came  to  the  stratum  that 
still  retained  some  of  the  coolness  of  the  night. 

Islam  Bai  rode  on  the  first  camel,  which  was  also  led  by 
Yollchi,  our  guide.  But  as  Islam  commanded  the  better 
view,  he  often  corrected  Yollchi,  and  suggested  taking  other 
directions.  That  gave  umbrage  to  the  ill-natured  “ Desert 
Man  so  that  two  or  three  times  he  flung  down  the  rope, 
threw  himself  on  the  sand,  and  challenged  Islam  to  guide 
the  caravan  himself.  When  we  came  to  camp,  a violent 
quarrel  broke  out  between  the  two  men.  Yollchi  came  to 
my  tent,  and  said  that  if  he  was  to  be  interfered  with  by  Is- 
lam he  had  better  go  back;  and  he  also  accused  Islam  of  be- 
ing close-fisted  with  the  bread.  He  was  considerably  taken 
aback  when  I quietly  remarked,  “ Yes,  he  had  better  go 
back  ;”  but  added  that  “ before  he  did  so  he  must  repay  me 


MAKCIIIN'C;  IX  A SAXD-STOKM 


SKIRTINCi  TIIK  Dl'SHRT 


495 


the  icx)  tcngeh  {22s.  6d.)  which  he  had  received  in  advance 
as  his  first  month’s  wages.”  That  brought  him  to  his  senses, 
and  in  the  most  earnest  tones  he  begged  to  be  allowed  to  re- 
main with  me.  I allowed  him  to  do  so  ; but  on  the  distinct  un- 
derstanding that  henceforward  he  was  to  obey  Islam.  1 had 
my  misgivings,  however,  that  when  we  came  to  face  the  lone- 
liness and  monotony  of  life  in  the  desert,  the  differences  be- 
tween the  two  men  would  break  out  again.  Hut  there  were 
no  more  quarrels.  .Although  \"ollchi  nourished  a growing 
spite  against  Islam,  he  wisely  held  his  tongue.  He  always 
kept  himself  to  himself,  never  talked  to  the  other  men,  and 
slept  apart,  a little  distance  from  the  rest ; nor  did  he  ever 
go  near  the  camp-fire  until  after  Islam  and  his  comrades  had 
gone  to  bed.  W’ere  they  right,  1 wonder,  in  suggesting  that 
Vollchi  purposely  led  us  in  the  wrong  direction.'*  If  so,  he 
paid  the  penalty ; for  he  died  of  thirst  in  the  desert. 

At  the  depth  of  about  3J  feet  we  came  upon  water,  with 
a temperature  of  50.7°  Fahr.  (104°  C.).  The  dogs  were  so 
thirsty  that  they  tried  to  fling  themselves  in  the  hole,  and  we 
were  obliged  to  tie  them  up  to  prevent  them  from  doing  so. 

April  14th,  Easter  Day,  we  only  travelled  ii.l  miles.  In 
one  place  the  dunes  on  their  sheltered  side  were  a steel-gray 
color.  Upon  examination  I found  that  they  were  coated  with 
a thin  crust  of  mica.  I also  made  the  discovery  that  the 
green  poplars  only  grew  among  the  dunes.  Where  the 
dunes  came  to  an  end,  there  the  poplars  ceased  also.  Possi- 
bly the  trees  or  their  roots  help  in  the  formation  of  the 
dunes. 

W e then  came  to  a belt  of  desert  absolutely  barren,  the 
ground  being  a hard,  level  plain  of  a variety  of  brown  colors, 
crossed  by  low  dunes  of  yellow  sand  that  looked  like  logs  of 
wood  lying  on  the  earth.  Many  small  pebbles  were  scattered 
over  the  plain.  During  this  day’s  march  we  came  across 
the  first  traces  of  the  wild  camel  ; at  least,  Yollchi  said  it  was 
a wild  camel,  but  I was  not  at  all  sure  of  it.  Farther  on  the 
camel  - tracks  became  numerous.  But,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  argument,  it  was  not  very  likely  that  tame  camels  would 
have  run  away  into  the  desert  by  themselves.  We  also  observed 


49^ 


TliROUGH  ASIA 


the  clroj^pings  and  footmarks  of  horses;  and  Yollchi  swore 
that  the  wild  horse  ranged  that  part  of  the  desert.  On  the 
top  of  one  of  these  dunes  I halted  a moment  in  order  to  ob- 
serve through  my  field-glass  a troop  of  animals  grazing  on  a 
bed  of  reeds  a long  way  off  towards  the  north.  But  before  I 
could  make  out  whether  they  were  horses  or  antelopes  they 
disappeared,  going  off  northward.  The  dry  gray  clay  was 
built  up  into  small  terraces  and  ridges,  so  strangely  like  the 
gray  clay  houses  in  the  towns  that  I could  not  rest  until  I 
went  and  examined  them  at  close  cpiarters. 

That  day  the  dogs  were  very  restless,  and  several  times 
went  off  a lon«[  wav  from  the  caravan.  Once  thev  were  ab- 
sent  a quarter  of  an  hour,  and  when  they  came  back  they 
were  wet  underneath.  Evidently  they  had  discovered  water 
somewhere.  After  going  about  iiA  miles  we  stumbled  by 
chance  upon  a pool.  I bade  Kasim  try  what  it  tasted  like. 
“ Sweet  as  honey,”  he  replied,  after  swallowing  a good  mouth- 
ful. The  consequence  was  that  we  pitched  the  tent  and 
made  our  camp  by  the  side  of  the  pool.  Men,  dogs,  sheep, 
poultry — all  hastened  to  quench  their  thirst;  and,  as  the  day 
was  hot,  we  were  all  properly  thirsty.  The  water  was  as 
clear  as  crystal  and  perfectly  sweet,  and  bubbled  up  out  of  a 
spring,  afterwards  running  into  a hollow  of  the  ground  some 
eighty  or  ninety  yards  long  by  about  four  wide;  so  that  the 
water  stood  at  about  the  same  general  level  below  the  surface 
that  it  did  in  the  wells  we  had  dug.  All  the  same,  it  was 
not  more  than  four  feet  down.  The  temperature  was  71.4’ 
Fahr.  (21.9°  C.)  at  five  o’clock  in  the  afternoon;  at  the  same 
hour  the  temperature  of  the  air  was  77.9°  h'ahr.  (25.5°  C.). 
W'ater-spiders  and  beetles  were  very  numerous.  The  latter 
hummed  about  over  the  plain,  and  off  went  the  hens  in  chase 
of  them.  The  first  of  the  sheep  was  slaughtered  here  with  the 
usual  ceremonies;  and  the  dogs  got  a good  meal  out  of  the 
blood  and  offal.  In  a word,  considering  it  was  the  desert, 
the  place  was  quite  idyllic.  'Bhe  sun  disappeared  from  sight 
in  the  dust-haze  while  still  twenty  degrees  above  the  hori- 
zon ; thereupon  the  heat  decreased  with  marvellous  rapidity. 
By  nine  o’clock  at  night  the  temperature  of  the  spring-water 


HALT  IN  THE  DESERT,  TO  WATER  THE  ANIMALS  NOON 


SKIRTINC;  TllH  DHSHRT 


497 


had  fallen  to  59.4°  Fahr.  (15.2°  C.),  proving  that  its  tempera- 
ture varied  directly  with  the  temi)erature  of  the  air. 

This  pleasant  camping  - ground  tempted  us  to  give  up  a 
day  to  rest,  which  was  ec|ually  welcome  to  us  human  beings 
as  to  the  animals.  We  all  enjoyed  a good  long  sleej),  and 
spent  the  ne.xt  day  in  putting  several  things  in  order:  the 
water-tanks  were  filled  uj),  clothes  were  washed,  saddles  and 
straps  mended,  d'he  day  turned  out  hot,  the  sand  becoming 
heated  to  i 1 2.3  h'ahr.  (44.6  C.).  Hut  two  or  three  whirl- 
winds came  up  out  of  the  north-northeast,  and  cooled  the  air 
splendidly ; while  without  any  reproach  of  conscience  we 
could  drink  as  much  water  as  ever  we  liked.  .As  for  the 
camels  and  dogs,  they  drank  so  much  that  you  could  actualh' 
see  their  skins  swelling  out.  'I'he  rest  also  suited  the  hens: 
they  managed  to  lay  four  eggs.  During  the  night  the  dogs 
barked  incessantly,  and  kept  running  back  along  the  route  by 
which  we  had  come,  and  on  which  we  had  seen  the  tracks  of 
the  wild  camels.  No  doubt  the  denizens  of  the  desert  were 
accustomed  to  frequent  the  springs  during  the  night;  but 
finding  us  in  possession  of  the  place  they  kept  themselves  at 
a safe  distance  for  that  night. 

On  April  i6th  we  did  i6f  miles,  through  a country  where 
sand-dunes  fifteen  or  sixteen  feet  high  alternated  with  stepjies 
of  withered  reeds,  which  “ crunched  ” under  the  camels’  feet 
and  sent  up  little  clouds  of  dust  when  trodden  upon.  Tam- 
arisks and  poplars  occurred  in  sporadic  clumps.  We  passed 
two  pools  of  water,  like  the  one  we  left  in  the  morning.  All 
three  lay  along  the  same  line,  stretching  east-northeast;  in 
all  probability  they  mark  the  course  of  a former  affluent  of 
the  A"arkand-daria. 

We  put  out  farther  and  farther  into  the  unknown  ocean 
of  sandy  desert.  Not  a sign  of  life  to  be  seen  ; not  a sound 
to  be  heard,  except  the  monotonous  ding-dong  of  the  bells 
tinkling  in  time  to  the  soft  tramping  of  the  camels.  Every 
now  and  again  we  made  a short  halt,  whenever,  in  fact,  we 
were  at  all  uncertain  of  the  course  we  ought  to  steer — oppor- 
tunities which  the  men  seized  upon  to  eat  their  simple  break- 
fast, consisting  of  a few  handfuls  of  talkan  (toasted  flour) 
1-32 


498 


THROUGH  ASIA 


steeped  in  water,  which  they  supped  out  of  wooden  bowls. 
The  water  in  the  tanks  became  tepid  during  the  course  of 
the  day.  For  my  own  part,  I always  missed  our  breakfast, 
and  contented  myself  with  two  meals  a day. 

April  17th.  To-day  there  was  a fresh  westerly  breeze;  but 
the  sky  remained  perfectly  clear.  On  several  occasions  I 
noticed  that  the  dust-storms  were  only  raised  by  the  easterly 
and  northeasterly  winds;  while  no  matter  how  strongly  it 
blew  from  the  west,  the  sky  always  remained  pure  and  clear. 

Before  we  had  gone  very  far  we  perceived  in  the  north  a 
tolerably  high  mountain,  like  a cloud  or  slight  thickening  of 
the  atmosphere,  fringing  the  horizon.  Hour  after  hour  we 
rode  towards  it ; but  the  mountain  grew  no  plainer  to  the 
eye,  nor  did  we  seem  to  approach  any  nearer  to  it.  The 
dunes  reached  sixteen  feet  in  height,  and  w'ere  often  very 
difficult  to  get  over.  Between  them  the  reed  steppes  became 
more  frequent  and  the  reeds  ranker  in  growth.  A few  hares 
leaped  out  from  among  them  as  the  caravan  drew  near. 
This  day,  too,  we  passed  some  small  pools;  but  they  were 
surrounded  by  saline  incrustations,  and  the  water  in  them 
was  brackish.  Away  towards  the  east  - northeast  a former 
river  had  cut  its  sinuous  way  through  the  desert;  the  chan- 
nel, which  was  half  choked  with  sand,  and  contained  only  a 
few  disconnected  pools  of  water,  was  forty-five  yards  wide 
and  six  and  a half  feet  deep.  Another  river-bed,  quite  dry, 
was  twenty-two  yards  wide.  In  the  north  there  were  a few 
dark  flocculent  clouds,  like  smoke  drifting  up  from  the 
ground.  Yollchi’s  explanation  was  as  follows:  The  moun- 
tains we  saw  were  the  southeastern  continuation  of  Masar- 
ta<ih,  stretching:  down  to  the  rig:ht  or  southern  bank  of  the 
Yarkand-daria.  The  two  dried  up  river-beds  had  been  afflu- 
ents of  the  Yarkand-daria,  which  used  to  receive  a portion  of 
their  waters  during  the  height  of  the  summer.  The  clouds 
we  saw  in  the  north  were  columns  of  steam  or  evaporation 
from  the  Yarkand-daria,  reflected  against  the  ])ure  blue  sky. 
In  all  these  explanations  he  was  unquestionably  right;  at  a 
later  period  I was  able  to  test  two  or  three  of  his  statements, 
and  found  things  to  be  exactly  as  he  had  said. 


SKIRTING  THE  DESERT 


499 


I*'or  a whole  hour  we  travelled  between  two  parallel  ridges 
of  sand,  which  stretched  north  by  fifteen  degrees  east.  'I'he 
one  on  our  right  was  more  than  thirty  feet  high,  and  both 
had  rounded  outlines.  I'he  level  stejjpe  between  them  was 
overgrown  with  exuberant  thistles  and  poplars.  We  crossed 
the  ridge  on  our  right,  and  then  jjassed  along  a second  valley 
running  parallel  to  the  first.  At  the  end  of  seventeen  and  a 
half  miles  we  pitched  camp  No.  \'II.  under  the  shade  of  a 
couple  of  leafy  poplars.  We  had  no  need  to  dig  for  water ; 
there  were  several  indications  that  a lake  or  running  stream 
could  not  be  far  off.  North  of  us  was  a thick  forest  of  pop- 
lars. Mosquitoes,  flics,  and  moths  were  abundant.  At  night 
the  last-mentioned  fluttered  round  my  candle  in  hundreds. 


CHAPTER  XLI 


AN  EARTHLY  PARADISE 

April  i8th.  The  new  clay  dawned  with  a fresh  nor’easter 
blowing.  The  tent  threatened  to  go  over,  although  we  had 
anchored  it  during  the  night.  The  sky  preserved  its  uniform 
gray  tint,  and  the  mid-day  heat  remained  absent.  We  de- 
cided to  march  straight  for  the  highest  point  of  the  moun- 
tains ahead,  being  persuaded  we  could  reach  it  before  even- 
ing. But  it  was  not  to  be — we  lost  our  way  in  the  poplar 
wood,  and  the  mountains  disappeared  from  view  in  the  dust- 
laden atmosphere. 

d'he  sand-dunes  were  all  round  us,  branching  away  irregu- 
larly in  every  direction,  and  growing  all  over  them  was  a 
large  forest  of  poplars.  The  ground  was  littered  with  heaps 
of  withered  leaves,  dried  tree- trunks,  branches,  and  sticks. 
Of  the  desert  there  was  not  a trace.  In  and  out  among  the 
trees  we  wound  a hundred,  a thousand  times;  and  it  was  as 
much  as  I could  do  to  sec  for  the  branches  I was  ridinq- 
under.  We  came  to  an  extensive  marsh,  around  which  the 
]ioplars  were  already  wearing  their  full  mantles  of  spring- 
time greenery.  To  our  amazement  we  perceived  traces  of 
human  beings  and  of  horses,  as  well  as  ashes  and  charred 
wood,  showing  that  a fire  had  been  lighted.  It  was  clear  we 
had  reached  the  districts  to  which  the  Dolons  are  accustomed 
to  drive  their  flocks  to  graze  in  the  spring,  and  from  which 
the  inhabitants  of  Maral-bashi  fetch  tlieir  fuel. 

Our  jiath  was  soon  stopped  by  several  long  narrow  creeks 
running  out  from  the  marsh.  But  we  were  obliged  to  cross 
them  ; so  one  of  the  men  went  into  them  barefooted  and 
sounded  their  dejith.  'I'hc  bottom  consisted  of  hard  clay, 
strong  enouqh  to  bear  the  camels.  .Advancing  a short  dis- 

O O O 


AN  KAR'mi.V  PARADIS1-: 


50' 


tance  farther,  wo  fouml  the  niarsli  terminated  in  a long  lake 
extending  towards  the  north.  W e skirted  its  eastern  side, 
keeping  along  the  Hanks  of  the  tolerably  high  sand-dunes 
which  slojjed  down  to  the  edge  of  the  ])ure  blue  water.  The 
forest  was  still  dense,  in  many  places  so  tangled  with  thickets 
that  we  were  compelled  to  make  detours  so  as  to  get  out  into 
more  open  ground.  Hut,  as  1 said,  for  the  most  part  we  kej)t 
close  to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  getting  many  a picturescjue 
glimpse  of  it  through  the  trees.  I'he  fresh  green  of  the 
leaves  contrasted  strikingly  with  the  deej)  blue  water,  and 
both  against  the  gray  haze  in  the  backgrcnind. 

d'he  lake,  which  was  nearly  a couple  of  miles  wide  in  its 
widest  part,  although  it  narrowed  greatly  towards  its  northern 
and  southern  extremities,  has  no  doubt  been  formed  by  a 
branch  of  the  Varkand-daria,  and  fills  during  the  season  of 
the  summer  overflows.  In  the  winter  a large  portion  of  the 
water  remains,  freezes,  thaws  again  in  the  spring,  and  dwin- 
dles on  till  the  summer  brings  it  the  usual  increase.  On  the 
edge  of  the  dunes  I observed  a higher  .shore-line,  indicating 
that  in  the  previous  summer  the  level  of  the  lake  had  been 
half  a yard  higher  than  it  was  at  the  time  of  our  visit. 

At  length  we  left  the  lake  on  our  left,  and  soon  became 
lost  in  a tangle  of  reed-beds  of  unprecedented  thickness  and 
the  height  of  a man.  .As  the  camels  forced  their  way  on- 
ward among  the  dry,  brittle  reed-stalks,  there  was  quite  an 
orchestra  of  crackling,  rustling  sounds.  Only  we  who  were 
ridinw  had  a free  outlook. 

O 

The  reed-beds  passed,  we  plunged  into  another  forest,  so 
thick  that,  after  one  or  two  narrow  escapes  of  being  swept 
off  my  camel  by  the  branches,  I was  obliged  to  get  down  and 
go  on  foot.  In  a part  of  the  forest  where  all  the  trees, 
althoimh  vounsf,  were  dead,  we  literallv  stuck  fast.  The  men 
were  forced  to  get  out  their  axes  and  hew  a ]3ath.  This 
occasioned  a great  loss  of  time  but  after  considerable  labor 
we  managed  to  struggle  out  once  more  on  to  the  level  steppe, 
d'here,  on  the  summit  of  an  isolated  dune,  whose  horns 
pointed  to  the  south  and  southwest,  we  pitched  our  camp. 

With  the  idea  of  making  our  presence  known,  in  case  there 


502 


THROUGH  ASIA 


was  anybody  in  the  vicinity  who  could  give  us  a little  topo- 
graphical information,  we  set  fire  to  a dry  poplar  thicket  at 
the  foot  of  the  sand-dune.  The  flames  shot  out  their  ruddy 
reflection  to  a long  distance,  but  never  a human  being  showed 
himself.  We  were  all  tired  after  our  toilsome  day’s  march  of 
sixteen  miles,  and  went  early  to  bed.  The  camels,  however, 
were  best  off ; every  day  they  got  full  rations  of  both  water 
and  food. 

April  19th.  When  the  tent  was  struck  we  found  a scorpion 
under  the  carpet,  an  inch  and  a half  long.  Upon  being  dis- 
turbed he  made  violent  efforts  to  use  his  tail.  We  were  all 
tired  with  our  exertions  of  the  day  before,  and  it  was  after 
nine  o’clock  when  we  got  started.  The  little  mountain- 
chain  towards  which  we  were  now  steering  our  course 
loomed  up  on  the  east  and  ran  towards  the  southeast,  where 
it  became  lower,  and  finally  was  lost  in  the  haze.  There  was 
another  mountain  in  the  north.  According  to  the  itinerary 
I had  mapped  out  for  our  journey,  the  latter  ought  to  be  the 
Masar-alldi.  Between  the  two  ranges  winds  the  Yarkand- 
daria ; but  we  were  unable  to  see  the  river. 

This  day  we  covered  only  yf  miles,  for  although  our  route 
lay  across  a steppe,  the  steppe  was  excessively  cut  up  by 
ravines  and  marshes.  But  the  mountain  became  gradually 
more  and  more  distinct.  Its  weathered,  rugged  outlines  were 
easy  to  make  out.  The  sand-dunes  climbed  up  its  northern 
slopes  to  a pretty  considerable  height.  Along  their  foot  was 
a chain  of  small  fresh-water  lakes,  separated  from  one  an- 
other by  low  isthmuses.  A channel  entering  into  the  largest 
of  the  group  revealed  the  fact  that  they  drew  their  supplies 
of  water  from  the  river.  During  the  summer  they  no  doubt 
shrink  together  and  form  only  a single  lake.  Keeping  be- 
tween the  lakes  and  the  mountain,  we  steered  at  first  towards 
the  east;  afterwards,  in  order  to  get  round  a spur  of  the  range, 
we  altered  our  course  towards  the  northeast.  We  pitched 
our  camp  on  the  shore  of  the  lake  under  the  shade  of  some 
leafy  poj)lars.  The  mountain  apjjeared  to  stand  quite  alone, 
unconnected  with  any  other  and  without  continuation  in  any 
direction. 


AX  KARTlll.Y  PARADISI-: 


503 


Oiir  second  shcej)  was  killed,  and  the  dogs,  which  for 
several  days  had  been  without  meat,  being  fed  on  bread 
alone,  were  gi\'en  a good  meal.  A hawk  began  to  hover 
above  the  poultry,  but  was  frightened  off  by  a ritle-shot, 
which  missed  it. 

April  20th.  Our  camp  was  so  pleasantly  situated  that  we 
could  not  resist  the  temj)tation  to  indulge  ourselves  with 
another  day’s  rest.  It  turned  out  a broiling  hot  day,  despite 
a fresh  breeze  from  the  northeast  all  night  and  all  the  morn- 
ing. The  radiation  rose  to  146.3  h'ahr.  (63.5°  C.),  and  at  two 
o’clock  in  the  afternoon  the  sand  was  heated  to  126.9°  h‘dir. 
(52.7°  C.).  We  had  an  incessant  craving  for  drink,  and  flew 
to  water  at  least  every  half-hour.  W’e  had  hard  work  to  kee|:> 
the  water  in  the  iron  tanks  even  tolerably  cool,  but  we  did 
what  we  could  by  wraijping  a damj)  cloth  round  them  and 
hanging  them  on  a bough  in  the  shade,  where  they  could 
catch  the  breeze. 

Islam  Hai  went  out  in  quest  of  wild  geese.  He  shot  a 
couple,  but  they  fell  into  the  lake  and  he  was  unable  to  get 
them.  The  other  men  spent  the  day  sleeping,  h'or  my  own 
part,  I walked  to  the  top  of  the  nearest  hill  and  discovered 
a vein  of  porphyry  piercing  the  same  species  of  rocks  that 
I had  observed  in  the  mountain  system  of  the  Masar-alldi. 
I had  a magnificent  view.  In  the  west-southwest  the  two 
limpid  sheets  of  water  which  we  had  passed  the  day  before 
reflected  their  environing  mountains,  with  their  sand-coated 
sides,  as  in  a mirror.  Mount  Masar-alldi  lay  northwest  of  us, 
and  between  it  and  our  camp,  and  stretching  round  to  the 
northeast,  was  a steppe  of  moist,  luxuriant  grass,  thickly 
studded  with  glittering  pools  and  marshes.  In  the  east,  too, 
I saw  a mountain-crest,  and  in  the  south  a maze  of  small 
weathered  peaks  belonging  to  the  same  system  which  over- 
hung our  camp.  The  poplar  groves  and  reed-beds  on  the 
north  tinted  the  steppe  green  and  gold;  the  mountains  were 
softened  into  violet  shades  ; the  sheets  of  water  glanced  dark- 
blue. 

While  I sat  admiring  the  scene  from  the  top  of  the  hill  in 
the  cool  of  the  afternoon,  the  wind  gradually  died  away,  the 


504 


THROUGH  ASIA 


sun  set,  steppe  and  lakes  became  enveloped  in  a light  mist, 
stillness  and  peace  reigned  over  the  scene.  The  only  sounds 
my  ear  could  catch  were  the  gentle  hum  of  the  mosquitoes 
and  midges,  the  croaking  of  a frog  or  two  in  the  marsh,  the 
distant  scream  of  a wild  goose,  and  every  now  and  again  the 
tinkle  of  the  camels’  bells  among  the  reeds.  It  was  a s:lorious 
spot.  I enjoyed  its  soothing  beauty  to  the  fill.  How  differ- 
ent from  the  days  which  followed!  How  often  during  the 
next  two  weeks  did  my  mind  fly  back  to  that  idyllic  scene  as 
to  an  earthly  paradise  I 

But  in  those  regions  the  twilight  is  very  short,  and  I 
hastened  to  get  back  to  camp.  The  men  were  already  fast 
asleep,  except  Islam  Bai,  who  was  busy  getting  my  dinner 
ready — mutton  broth,  fried  potatoes,  and  tea.  The  thermom- 
eter read  68°  Fahr.  (20°  C.),  but  during  the  night  it  fell  to 
50.7°  Fahr.  (10.4°  C.),  and  I felt  it  actually  cold.  Near  these 
lakes  we  again  came  upon  traces  of  human  beings.  There 
were  one  or  two  deserted  reed  huts  on  the  shore  ; and  next 
day,  April  21st,  when  we  continued  our  journey  between  the 
lakes  and  the  mountain,  we  came,  on  the  other  side  of  some 
high  dunes,  upon  the  wheel  tracks  of  arbas  (high  wooden 
carts)  going  through  a poplar  wood.  The  discovery  vastly 
surprised  us  all.  My  men  at  once  set  them  down  as  marking 
the  road  which  they  had  heard  speak  of  as  following  the  left 
bank  of  the  Khotan-daria.  But  I surmised  it  was  some 
hitherto  unknown  track,  which  skirted  the  base  of  the 
Masar-tagh  as  far  as  the  stream  just  mentioned.  To  clear 
up  the  mystery  we  resolved  to  follow  the  trail  as  far  as  it 
went,  no  matter  where  it  led  us  to;  but  we  had  only  ad- 
vanced a little  way  when  the  wheel-tracks  disappeared  and 
the  [)ath  came  to  an  end.  Shortly  afterwards  the  j^oplar 
wood  came  to  an  end  also. 

After  that  we  continued  to  move  towards  the  southeast, 
keeping  between  the  mountains  which  overhung  our  last 
camping-place  and  an  isolated  ridge  which  lay  to  the  east. 
Our  route  lay  across  a hard  level  stej)pe,  thinly  overgrown 
with  grass,  where  travelling  was  unusually  easy.  'Hie  camels 
marched  in  regular  time,  and  their  bells  tinkled  in  strict 


CAMP  XO.  IX.,  OX  TIIK  SHORE  OF  IIIK  DESERT  I.AKE 


AX  KARTllLV  PARADISE 


507 


accord  with  their  jiaces.  At  the  foot  of  the  eastern  ridge 
there  was  another  lake,  and  to  our  amazement  we  perceived 
three  horses  grazing  on  its  banks.  It  was  now  jilain  there 
were  people  in  the  neighborhood.  W’ho  were  they?  Itow 
were  we  to  find  them  ? I told  off  two  of  my  men  to  follow 
a fresh  trail,  which  led  between  the  sand-dunes  and  up  the 
slopes  of  the  mountain  in  the  west.  P2re  long  they  returned. 
brin<;in<r  with  them  a man  from  Maral-bashi,  who  occasionally 
came  to  that  spot  to  fetch  salt,  of  which,  he  said,  there  was  a 
large  deposit  in  the  mountain.  I saw  some  of  what  he  had 
gathered.  It  appeared  to  be  of  e.xcellent  quality.  He  took 
it  to  Maral-bashi,  where  he  .said  he  made  a first-rate  price  of 
it  in  the  bazaars.  When  I asked  him  in  which  direction  the 
town  lay,  he  jJointed  towards  the  northwest,  and  told  me  it  was 
two  short  days’  journey  to  it.  The  mountain  we  had  seen  in 
that  quarter  was,  as  we  sujrposed,  the  system  of  the  Masar- 
alldi.  About  the  country  to  the  southeast,  and  the  distances 
to  the  Khotan-daria,  he  knew  nothing;  he  was  only  able  to 
add  that  he  had  heard  there  was  nothing  but  sand  to  the 
south,  with  not  a single  drop  of  water  anywhere,  and  he  knew 
that  the  desert  was  called  Takla-makan. 

We  said  adieu  to  the  lonely  salt-gatherer,  and  continued 
south-southeast  across  the  hard,  barren,  trackless  plain.  .As 
we  advanced,  the  mountain  on  our  right  gradually  decreased 
in  height  until  it  merged  in  a sand-ridge,  which  eventually 
became  lost  in  the  desert.  This  mountain,  therefore,  had  no 
continuation.  We  could  only  surmise  that  it  was  the  east- 
ern range  which  was  connected  with  the  Masar-tagh  that 
Przhevalsky  marked  on  his  map  as  terminating  near  the 
Khotan-daria. 

The  ground  we  were  now  travelling  over  consisted  of 
hard,  dry  clay,  cracked  in  thousands  of  directions,  plainly 
proving  that  it  was  under  water  during  the  summer.  We 
kept  close  to  the  shore  of  the  lake  all  along  until  it  began  to 
narrow,  and  we  were  compelled  to  make  detours  round  the 
marshes  which  extended  some  distance  from  it.  From  the 
southern  end  of  the  lake  several  long,  narrow  creeks  stretched 
out  like  fingers  into  the  gradually  rising  ground.  It  is  worthy 


CHAPTER  XLII 


IN  THE  BAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

April  23D.  It  proved  to  be  a warm  day;  but  the  camels 
had  profited  from  their  rest,  and  we  did  1 7 miles  before 
halting.  At  first  our  route  lay  across  the  thinly  grassed 
dusty  steppe,  which  stretched  away  southeastward  from  the 
lake,  and  was  dotted  all  over  with  small  mounds  and  terraces 
of  clay,  that  bore  a striking  resemblance  to  houses.  After 
we  had  gone  about  an  hour  and  a half,  the  sand  began  to 
take  the  form  of  low  furrowed  ridges.  Then  ten  minutes 
farther  on  and  we  were  in  the  midst  of  a regular  chaos  of 
sand-dunes,  all  linked  together,  running  without  break  one 
into  another.  Their  prevailing  direction  was  from  northeast 
to  southwest,  and  their  steeper  faces  all  fronted  towards  the 
south,  southwest,  and  west.  They  were  20  to  25  feet  high, 
and  often  extremely  difficult  to  get  over.  My  men  called 
them  yaman-kum  (hateful  sand),  chong-kum  (big  sand),  and 
ighiz-ktmi  (high  sand);  to  their  crests  or  summits  they  gave 
the  name  of  belcs  (pass).  Already  we  perceived  several  pecul- 
iar sand  formations.  When  two  systems  of  sea-waves  clash 
together,  they  mount  on  the  top  of  one  another  up  to  double 
their  original  height.  In  like  manner  some  of  these  gigantic 
sand-waves  were  piled  up  in  pyramidal  masses  overtopping 
the  level  of  the  rest.  This  was  where  two  separate  dunes 
were  driven  one  across  the  other  by  the  ever-varying  winds. 

Right  across  our  path,  running  from  north -northeast  to 
south-southwest,  was  a ridge  of  gigantic  dunes,  exceeding  in 
altitude  all  others  we  could  see ; they  were  probably  formed 
over  uneven  ground.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  with  what 
surety  of  foot  the  camels  clambered  up  the  steep  inclines, 
which  the  men  only  climbed  with  the  utmost  exertion,  slip- 


THE  DUNES  INCREASED  KAl'IDLV  IN  IIEIOIIT 


IX  TllK  BAX  OF  THF  DFSKRT 


5*3 


ping  back  at  every  step  they  took.  I he  ridge  rose  to  rela- 
tively but  an  inconsiderable  height  above  the  general  level ; 
all  the  same,  it  afforded  a wide  view.  \\  hy  did  1 not  j)ale 
with  horror  when  my  gaze  swept  eastward  over  that  unend- 
ing ocean  of  fine  yellow  sand,  and  its  gigantic  billows  peej>- 
ing  up  one  behind  the  other  for  miles  u|)on  miles  I can 
onlv  suggest,  it  was  because  1 believed  that  the  star  of  my 
fortunes,  which  had  always  shone  so  clear  above  my  head, 
would  not  become  e.xtinct  now.  On  the  contrary,  to  my 
eyes  the  desert  ocean  was  invested  with  a fascinating  beauty. 
Its  silence,  its  unbroken  stillness,  e.xercised  a magic  charm 
over  me.  It  was  a grand,  a majestic  sight.  I'he  wizard 
power  of  the  desidcri^im  incoguiti  was  drawing  me  on  with 
an  irresistible  spell  to  enter  the  castle  of  the  desert  king, 
where  I was  to  unseal  the  revelations  of  bygone  centuries, 
and  discover  the  buried  treasures  of  old-world  legend  and 
story.  My  motto  was  “ W in  or  lose. ’’  I knew  nothing  of 
hesitation,  nothing  of  fear.  “Onward!  Onward!"  whispered 
the  desert  wind.  “Onward!  Onward!”  vibrated  the  camels’ 
bells.  \ thousand  times  a thousand  steps  to  reach  my  ob- 
ject; yet  accursed  be  the  first  step  I take  backward! 

d'he  dunes  increased  rapidly  in  height,  the  maximum  being 
some  6o  to  70  feet.  It  was  terrible  work  getting  over  them. 
The  camels  slid  cleverly  down  the  steep  slopes.  Only  one 
of  them  fell,  one  of  the  two  that  carried  the  water-tanks,  and 
had  to  be  unloaded  and  reloaded.  Sometimes,  when  our 
path  was  stopped  by  abrupt  declivities,  we  were  obliged  to 
stand  still,  while  the  men  dug  out  and  trampled  down  a path 
for  the  animals.  By  this  the  dunes  had  increased  to  a height 
of  80  to  100  feet.  When  I stood  at  the  base  of  one  of  them, 
and  looked  up  at  the  caravan  creeping  along  its  brink,  I 
thought  how  little  it  looked.  As  far  as  possible  we  kept  to 
the  same  curving  line  of  summits,  so  as  to  escape  going  up 
and  down  more  than  we  could  help.  As  a consequence  of 
this,  our  track  was  verv  zigzag.  We  took  all  the  advantage 
we  could  of  the  softer,  rounded  summits,  going  from  the  one 
to  the  other ; nevertheless  we  were  very  often  obliged  to  go 
down  a steep  slope  which  we  found  it  impossible  to  get 
1-33 


THROUGH  ASIA 


514 

round.  When,  after  some  little  hesitation,  the  camels  besan 
to  slide  down  the  loose  sand,  every  man’s  utmost  watchful- 
ness was  needed,  for  the  sand  poured  down  after  them  in  a 
torrent,  covering  them  to  the  knees. 

We  missed  the  small  patches  of  hard  clay  soil  of  which  we 
had  passed  so  many  during  the  first  few  days  of  our  desert 
journey.  We  were  now  entirely  among  the  sand.  The  last 
of  the  tamarisks,  which  still  defied  the  visitation  of  death, 
was  left  behind.  There  was  not  a blade,  not  a leaf,  to  be 
seen  ; nothing  but  sand,  sand,  sand — fine  yellow  sand — whole 
mountains  of  it,  stretching  over  boundless  spaces,  as  far  as 
the  eye,  with  the  field-glass  to  help  it,  was  able  to  reach.  No 
bird  gave  animation  to  the  expanses  of  the  sky.  All  traces 
of  gazelle  and  deer  had  long  since  ceased.  Even  the  very 
last  promontory  of  the  Masar-tagh  had  vanished  from  sight 
in  the  dust-haze  that  obscured  the  atmosphere. 

The  poor  dogs!  How  they  suffered  from  the  heat,  in 
their  thick  hairy  coats  ! Hamrah  in  particular  whined  and 
howled,  and  lagged  behind  time  after  time.  We  spent  a whole 
hour  vainly  looking  for  a suitable  camping- ground,  and  at 
last,  about  dusk,  found  a very  small  patch  of  hard  clay,  where 
the  last  two  tamarisks  grew.  Both  trees  were  instantly  peeled 
by  the  camels.  Other  green  food  there  was  of  course  none. 
We  gave  the  animals  oil  and  sesamum  husks.  We  set  about 
digging  a well;  but,  as  the  sand  still  remained  dry  at  a depth 
of  feet,  we  abandoned  the  attempt.  Then  we  missed 
Hamrah.  We  whistled;  we  shouted.  The  dog  did  not 
appear;  nor  did  we  ever  see  him  again.  Half-way  from  our 
last  camp  Mohammed  Shah  saw  him  scratch  up  the  sand 
underneath  one  of  the  very  last  tamarisks  we  passed,  and 
then  lie  down  in  it.  The  men  believed  the  do<;  had  died  of 
sunstroke.  Wdth  greater  probability  the  sagacious  animal 
had  o^rown  tired  of  runnin<i  throiujh  the  sand,  had  scented 
out  that  there  was  nothing  but  the  terrible  desert  before  us, 
and  wisely  judged  that  evil  was  in  store  for  him  if  he  followed 
us.  Having,  therefore,  turned  the  matter  well  over  in  his 
mind,  he  made  his  choice,  and  turned  back  to  the  last  lake 
we  had  left;  then,  having  drunk  and  cooled  his  coat  with  a 


IN  THE  HAN  OF  THE  DESERT 


5ES 


good  bath,  he  would  no  doubt  make  his  way  to  Maral-bashi, 
although  to  get  there  he  would  have  to  swim  over  the  Yar- 
kand  daria.  When  1 got  back  to  Kashgar  I made  inquiries 
after  the  dog;  but  1 could  learn  nothing  of  him.  Yolldash 
stuck  to  us  faithfully:  but,  poor  beast!  his  fidelity  cost  him 
his  life. 

A strange  and  inexplicable  feeling  came  over  me  when  I 
encamped  for  the  first  time  in  the  dreariest  desert  there  is  on 
the  face  of  the  earth.  The  men  spoke  but  little ; not  one  of 
them  laughed.  An  unwonted  silence’  reigned  around  the  little 
fire  of  tamarisk  roots.  W’e  tethered  the  camels  for  the  night 
close  to  our  sleeping-place,  to  prevent  them  breaking  loose 
and  going  back  to  the  lake,  where  they  had  their  last  good 
browse.  A death-like  silence  held  us  all  under  its  spell ; 
even  the  camels’  bells  were  frequently  silent.  The  only 
sound  to  be  heard  was  the  heavy,  long-drawn,  measured 
breathing  of  the  camels.  Two  or  three  stray  moths  fluttered 
around  my  candle  inside  the  tent;  but  no  doubt  they  had 
travelled  with  our  caravan. 

April  24th.  I was  awakened  at  half-past  three  in  the 
morning  by  a hurricane-like  wind  from  the  west.  Clouds  of 
sand  were  swept  into  the  tent.  The  storm  whistled  and  rattled 
among  the  tent-ropes  and  tent-pegs,  and  the  tent  itself  shook 
to  such  an  extent  that  I expected  every  moment  it  would  be 
blown  away.  The  wind  struck  us  from  every  quarter,  for 
our  camp  was  pitched  in  a sort  of  hollow,  surrounded  on 
all  sides  bv  dunes  of  drift-sand.  There  was  one  ^icjantic 
ridge  on  the  north  of  us,  another  on  the  east,  and  yet  another 
on  the  west,  this  last  inclining  one  degree  to  the  south.  The 
surface  of  the  dunes  was  corrugated  all  over,  the  lines  of  cor- 
rugation running  from  north  to  south.  On  the  south  there 
was  a fourth  dune,  lying  almost  parallel  to  the  third,  and  with 
an  inclination  of  ten  degrees  towards  the  north.  The  steep 
faces  of  the  sand-ridges  in  that  part  of  the  desert  were  turned 
towards  the  south  and  the  west,  the  flatter,  easier  declivities 
towards  the  east  and  the  north — an  arrangement  which  was 
the  exact  contrary  of  what  we  should  have  preferred. 

Notwithstanding  the  violent  gale,  the  sky  was  perfectly 


THROUGH  ASIA 


516 

clear.  But  then  the  wind  came  from  the  west;  while  it  is 
only  the  easterl}^  winds  which  bring  the  dust-storms.  It 
turned  out  a hot  day,  although  the  air  was  somewhat  cooled 
by  the  wind.  Clouds  and  columns  of  sand  whirled  in  a mad 
dance  across  the  desert,  so  that  every  now  and  again  we  be- 
came entirely  swallowed  up  in  them.  But,  as  they  seldom 
exceeded  a dozen  feet  in  height,  the  zenith  retained  all  the 
while  its  fresh  blue  color,  and  the  sun’s  rays  beat  down  upon 
us  with  undiminished  fierceness.  The  horizon  was  veiled  in 
an  unbroken  yellowish-red  haze.  The  fine  drift-sand  pene- 
trated everywhere — into  mouth,  nose,  ears;  even  our  clothes 
became  impregnated  with  it,  so  that  we  experienced  a dis- 
agreeable grittiness  of  the  skin,  to  which,  however,  we  soon 
grew  accustomed.  The  haze  on  the  horizon  was  very  em- 
barrassing; for  we  often  found  it  difficult  to  decide  which 
way  to  go.  It  would  have  suited  us  very  much  better  had 
things  been  reversed— namely,  the  zenith  been  clouded,  but 
the  horizon  clear.  Meanwhile  the  top  of  every  dune  afforded 
us  an  opportunity  to  observe  how  the  drift-sand  stood  over 
like  a plume  or  inverted  tassel  on  the  brink  that  faced  the 
direction  of  the  wind;  how  one  moment  the  minute  grains 
of  sand  were  whirling  round  and  round  in  a frenzied  dance 
on  the  windward  side  of  the  dune,  then  the  next  moment 
quietly  settled  down  on  the  lee  side  in  fine  crumpled  folds, 
as  though  some  mighty  master-hand  were  weaxing  them 
together  after  a tastefully  designed  pattern.  But  when  our 
heads  rose  up  to  the  same  level  as  the  sand-storm,  which 
came  whistling  between  the  summits  of  the  dunes,  the  effect 
absolutely  bafties  description.  We  shut  our  eyes  and  mouths 
tight;  we  lowered  our  heads  against  the  fierce  blast,  which 
shrieked  and  moaned  about  our  ears.  But,  the  whirlwind 
passed,  we  stood  still  and  literally  shook  the  dust  off  our 
clothes  by  the  jDOund.  I had  brought  with  me  a good  stock 
of  snow-spectacles,  with  a fine  mesh-work  of  black  wire  across 
them  ; these  now  proved  invaluable,  although  the  fine  sand 
partly  forced  itself  in  between  the  tiny  meshes. 

There  was,  however,  one  advantage  attending  a westerly 
gale.  It  tended  to  level  down  the  abruj)t  faces  of  the  sand- 


A 1)i;si;kt  sand-si okm 


IN  THE  HAN  OF  THE  DESERT 


519 


dunes,  and  hurl  them  over  on  to  the  eastern  sides.  And  yet 
what  can  one  hurricane  effect  as  against  the  labor  of  cen- 
turies ? 

My  men  set  out  in  the  morning  full  of  hope  that  before 
evening  we  should  reach  a part  of  the  desert  where  the  dunes 
were  lower,  and  where  we  should  be  able  to  find  water,  and, 
mavbc,  pasture  for  the  camels,  and  fuel  for  a fire  as  well. 
Hut  no  such  thing.  The  sand-hills  grew  higher  and  higher, 
and  we  drifted  farther  and  farther  into  the  unknown  terrors 
of  the  desert.  Only  once  during  the  day  did  the  dunes  be- 
come really  lower — namely,  forty  to  fifty  feet.  In  that  solitary 
spot  we  caught  a glimpse  of  a few  j)atches  of  bare  level  soil, 
partly  clay,  partly  sheeted  with  saline  incrustations. 

At  first  it  had  been  my  intention  to  keep  steadily  on 
towards  the  southeast,  in  order  to  find  out  how  far  it  was 
before  the  Masar-tagh  cropped  up  again  out  of  the  sand  of 
the  Takla-makan  Desert.  Hut  we  saw  no  glimpse  of  a moun- 
tain, and  so  oraduallv  bent  our  course  round  to  the  east, 
under  the  belief  that  that  was  the  shortest  way  to  the  Khotan- 
daria.  Islam  Hai  was  our  pilot  now,  and  e.xcellently  well  he 
did  the  work.  He  went  on  a good  distance  ahead,  picking 
out  the  easiest  path,  and  holding  the  compass  in  his  hand  all 
the  time.  Down  he  went  behind  a dune,  and  became  lost  to 
sight;  but  he  soon  reappeared  on  the  crest  of  the  next  ridge, 
then  down  again ; and  so  it  went  on,  time  after  time.  The 
caravan  followed  slowly  in  his  footsteps.  Our  line  of  march 
thus  formed  an  undulating  curve,  winding  across  the  troughs 
of  the  desert  waves,  and  over  the  saddles  of  the  dunes — z.c., 
the  lower  transverse  ridges  which  connected  the  loftier  crests — 
and  thus  afforded  relatively  easy  passages  from  one  depres- 
sion to  another.  But  when  Islam  stopped,  and  stepped  aside 
up  a pyramidal  peak,  and  putting  his  hand  to  his  brow  to 
shade  his  eves,  sfazed  fixedlv  eastward,  I confess  I did  not  feel 
very  comfortable.  The  action  would  bear  only  one  interpre- 
tation : the  road  was  growing  still  more  difficult.  Sometimes 
he  came  back  quite  discouraged,  crying  “ yo//  yock" 
(Perfectly  impassable),  '‘■Her  taraf  yaman  kum"  (Hateful 
sand  everywhere),  or  simply  ''  Kzim-tagh"  (Mountains  of 


520 


THROUGH  ASIA 


sand).  When  that  happened,  we  were  forced  to  make  a wide 
detour  to  the  north  or  south,  so  as  to  get  past  the  hin- 
derances  which  blocked  the  direct  line  of  advance. 

All  the  men  walked  barefooted,  the  perspiration  rolling  off 
them,  all  alike  silent,  weary,  and  downcast  at  finding  their 
hopes  of  easier  sand  so  bitterly  and  so  constantly  deceived. 
Time  after  time  they  stopped  to  drink  ; but  the  water  itself 
was  hot,  its  temperature  being  86°  Fahr.  (30°  C.) ; for  it  was 
incessantly  washed  backward  and  forward  against  the  heat- 
ed sides  of  the  iron  tanks,  which  we  were  no  longer  able  to 
shade  with  bundles  of  reeds,  for  the  camels  had  eaten  them 
all  up  to  the  last  stalk.  Anyway,  we  all  drank  excessive 
quantities  of  water,  in  order  to  increase  the  transpiration,  for 
the  wind  struck  cool  upon  our  skin. 

'I'he  caravan  crept  slowly  on  at  a snail’s  pace.  We  always 
took  a general  look -round  from  the  top  of  each  outstand- 
ing eminence;  but  towards  every  point  of  the  compass  it  was 
always  the  same  monotonous,  discouraging  outlook  — one 
sand-ridge  peeping  up  behind  another — a billowy  ocean  with- 
out a shore,  actual  mountain-chains  of  nothing  but  fine,  yel- 
low sand.  The  camels  still  continued  to  climb  up  and  slide 
down  the  slopes  with  the  same  marvellous  surety  of  foot ; 
nevertheless,  we  were  often  obliged  to  make  a path  for  them. 
'I'hese  difficult  places,  which  the  men  called  davan-kum  (sand- 
pass),  generally  discouraged  us  all  a little  ; but  whenever  we 
were  favored  with  a good  piece  of  level  ground  iiiarah)  be- 
tween the  dunes,  we  quickly  recovered  our  spirits  and  pushed 
on  with  fresh  vigor,  the  men  crying  Khoda  kalesa  ’’  (Cxod  grant 
it!),  Ijishallali"  (With  God’s  will!),  and  ''Bismillah"  (In 
God’s  name  !).  But  after  advancing  a little  way  a fresh  ridge 
would  face  us,  and  fresh  crests  would  tower  up  ahead  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach. 

On  the  top  of  a commanding  dune  we  made  a long  halt, 
for  the  purpose  of  reconnoitring  and  of  quenching  our  thirst. 
(Occasionally  poor  Yolldash  and  the  sheep,  which  were  dying 
of  thirst,  were  ^iven  their  fill.  Yolldash  was  wild  the  mo- 
ment  he  heard  the  sound  of  water.  Every  time  anybody 
went  to  the  water-tank,  he  came  running  up  wagging  his  tail. 


IN  TllK  HAN  OF  TllF  I)F:S1<RT 


521 


The  last  survivor  of  the  sheej)  followed  us  with  the  patience 
and  fidelity  of  a dog.  I he  men  grew  so  fond  of  the  creature 
that  they  said  they  would  rather  perish  of  hunger  than  kill  it. 

Hut  the  camels  were  visibly  tiring.  1 leavy  falls  grew  more 
and  more  frequent.  Wdien  they  fell  on  a steej)  incline,  they 
were  unable  to  get  uj)  without  help.  One  of  the  beasts 
which  came  down  near  the  summit  of  a ridge,  we  were  obliged 
to  free  entirely  from  his  burden,  saddle  and  all ; and  then, 
all  jJLitting  our  shoulders  to  him,  we  rolled  him  seventy  feet 
down  the  slope  into  a hollow  between  two  sand-dunes.  It 
was  only  then  that  he  was  able  to  reco\’er  his  feet. 

After  going  eight  miles,  we  had  had  enough  of  it  for  that 
day:  and  caiviped  on  a small  patch  of  bare  ground,  so  hard 
that  we  did  not  even  attemjjt  to  dig  a well.  livery  trace  of 
organic  life  had  now  absolutely  ceased.  No  moths  came 
fluttering  round  my  candle  at  night.  Not  a single  yellow 
leaf  came  dancing  down  the  wind  to  break  the  deadly  uni- 
formity. As  soon  as  our  duties  were  finished,  we  sat  down 
and  discussed  the  doings  of  the  day,  and  what  should  be 
done  on  the  morrow.  It  was  truly  touching  to  hear  Islam 
Hai  doing  his  best  to  keep  up  the  courage  of  the  others.  He 
told  them  about  our  former  journeys,  about  the  masses  of 
snow  we  encountered  in  the  Alai  valley,  “ which  were  much 
worse  than  the  sand,”  about  the  glaciers  of  Mus-tagh-ata,  and 
our  several  ascents  of  the  great  mountain. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 


THE  CAMELS  BREAK  DOWN 

April  25TH.  As  a consequence  of  the  limpid  purity  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  minimum  thermometer  sank  to  an  unusually 
low  level,  not  more  than  a couple  of  degrees  above  freezing- 
point;  and  in  the  morning  a nor’ wester  was  blowing  and  the 
air  was  again  thick  with  dust.  All  day  long,  therefore,  the 
temperature  remained  more  than  ordinarily  low;  we  had  no 
grounds  for  complaining  of  the  heat,  even  at  noon.  Under 
the  clear  night  sky  radiation  had  been  very  active  ; then  came 
the  veil  of  dust,  shielding  the  earth  like  an  umbrella,  so  that 
the  sun’s  rays  were  a long  time  in  warming  the  ground. 
Meanwhile  the  air  Qrrew  so  thick  that  we  had  difficultv  in 
seeing  beyond  the  next  dune  or  so. 

The  terraced  patches  of  clay  and  silt,  which  lay  embedded 
between  the  sand-dunes,  and  on  which  we  preferred  if  possi- 
ble to  encamp,  were  formations  of  a remarkable  character. 
They  consisted  of  a series  of  horizontal  flakes  of  clay,  brittle, 
friable,  and  saline,  and  crumbled  to  pieces  at  the  least  touch. 
The  several  flakes  did  not  lie  at  the  same  level,  but  gener- 
ally rose  layer  above  layer  like  a series  of  steps.  There  was 
not  a trace  of  sand  in  them,  nor  of  vegetable  matter  either. 
They  were  pure  alluvial  clays ; of  that  there  could  not  exist 
a doubt.  Probably  they  were  the  last  surviving  fragments  of 
the  bed  of  the  great  Central  Asian  Mediterranean,  which  has 
dried  up  in  the  course  of  countless  centuries,  and  the  differ- 
ent terraces  possibly  indicated  different  sea-levels.  As  a rule 
none  of  these  patches  of  clay  was  bigger  than  the  deck  of  a 
brig;  and  the  sand-dunes,  in  their  restless  onward  movement, 
keej)  pouring  over  them  and  covering  them  up. 

When  morning  came  I made  a most  unwelcome  discovery. 


rilK  CAMKLS  BREAK  DOWN 


523 


1 had  noticed  the  day  before  how  the  water  washed  very 
noisily  to  and  fro  in  the  water -tanks,  and  I looked  into 
them  to  ascertain  the  cause.  They  contained  only  ivatcr 
enough  fo  last  two  days!  1 asked  the  men  why  they  had  not 
obeyed  my  instructions,  and  put  in  sufificient  water  to  last  ten 
days.  They  answered  that  Yollchi  was  responsible  for  the 
Cjuantity  of  water  brought.  When  I rejjroached  Yollchi  he 
answered,  “ W'e  might  be  perfectly  easy;  for  it  was  merely  a 
four  days’  journey  from  the  last  of  the  desert  lakes  to  the 
place  where  we  could  get  water  by  digging  for  it.”  This 
statement  agreed  with  the  maps  I had.  Consecjuently  I re- 
lied upon  the  man,  all  the  more  since  his  information  hith- 
erto had  invariably  turned  out  to  be  correct.  We  were  all 
without  e.xception  convinced  that  we  were  every  bit  as  near 
to  water  by  going  east  as  by  going  west;  consequently  no- 
body said  a word  about  going  back  to  the  last  of  the  desert 
lakes.  And  yet  what  suffering,  what  loss,  what  sorrow  would 
have  been  spared  both  to  ourselves  and  to  others,  who  were 
anxious  about  our  fate, if  we  had  retraced  our  steps  to  that  little 
desert  lake  ! However,  we  all  agreed  to  watch  over  the  water 
we  had,  and  husband  it  like  gold.  Privately,  I instructed  Is- 
lam Bai  not  to  let  the  two  water-tanks  out  of  his  sight  for  a 
single  moment.  From  that  morning  the  camels  never  got  a 
drop  more  water  to  drink. 

Thanks  to  the  dust-haze,  the  air  remained  beautifully  cool. 
The  crests  of  the  dunes  gleamed  out  of  the  gloom  like  fan- 
tastic ghosts,  yellow  dolphins  with  arched  backs,  mocking  us 
for  our  audacity  in  daring  to  defy  them.  The  thick  atmos- 
phere embarrassed  us  considerably  in  judging  of  distance 
and  perspective.  We  were  often  brought  up  suddenly  at  the 
bottom  of  a dune,  which,  owing  to  its  blurred  outlines,  we 
still  imagined  to  be  a good  way  ahead  of  us. 

In  front  of  us  extended  an  endless  world  of  ridges  and 
hummocks  of  sand.  The  greater  portion  of  the  dunes 
stretched  from  north  to  south;  the  highest  ones  extended 
from  east  to  west.  The  horizontal  terraces  of  clay,  which 
were  at  least  evidence  that  the  ocean  of  sand  was  not  quite 
without  a bottom,  and  which  buoyed  us  up  with  the  hope 


524 


THROUGH  ASIA 


that  vve  should  ultimately  get  beyond  the  sweep  of  its  sand- 
waves,  had  now  entirely  ceased.  Everything  was  completely 
buried  under  sand;  the  dunes  were  sand;  every  hollow  be- 
tween them  was  sand.  It  was  plain  we  were  entangled  in 
the  very  worst  part  of  all  the  desert;  and  I became  painfully 
conscious  of  the  seriousness  of  our  position. 

I travelled  all  that  day  on  foot,  partly  to  spare  my  excellent 
camel  Boghra,  partly  to  encourage  my  men.  The  camel 
Babai  kept  stopping  every  minute.  Time  after  time  the 
cord  that  he  was  led  by  broke,  and  his  nose  became  sore  and 
tender.  At  last  he  lay  down  on  the  sand,  and  refused  to 
exert  himself  any  further.  We  took  off  his  load.  Then  he 
got  up.  We  fastened  his  load  on  again  as  he  stood.  But 
he  walked  slower  and  slower,  stopped  oftener  and  oftener, 
and  had  to  be  led  all  the  time  by  one  of  the  men.  Finally 
we  relieved  him  of  his  burden  and  divided  it  amono-  the  other 

o 

camels,  and  left  him  to  make  his  way  alone  in  the  wake  of 
the  caravan.  It  was  a terrible  sight  to  see  “ the  ship  of  the 
desert,”  man’s  only  hope  on  that  endless  sea,  become  a wreck. 
We  gazed  and  gazed  impatiently  eastward,  seeking  some 
abatement  of  the  difficulties  of  the  road;  but  we  gazed  in 
vain.  There  was  nothino:  but  mountains  of  sand  as  far  as 

<T> 

the  eye  could  pierce.  All  of  a sudden  a gaddy  came  buzzing 
among  the  camels.  Instantly  our  hopes  rose  to  fever  point; 
we  believed  we  were  nearing  “land.”  Yet  in  all  probability 
it  was  merely  a deceiver,  which  we  had  not  observed  before 
— a straggler  which  had  quietly  lain  hidden  in  the  hairy  hide 
of  one  of  the  camels. 

Babai  delayed  us  continually;  at  last  we  decided  to  halt 
for  an  hour,  so  as  to  afford  him  an  opportunity  to  rest.  W'e 
gave  him  a few  pints  of  water  and  a few  handfuls  of  hay 
out  of  his  own  pack-saddle;  he  devoured  them  voraciously. 
When  his  saddle  was  taken  off,  we  perceived  he  had  an  open 
sore  on  his  back,  where  a rough  piece  of  the  saddle  had  chafed 
his  unhealthy  yellowish  flesh.  1 lis  legs  trembled  ; his  tongue 
was  white.  It  was  })ainful  to  see  the  j)oor  creature.  Leaving 
Mohammed  Shah  to  look  after  him,  the  rest  of  us  went  on. 
I'or  a long  time  we  heard  the  sick  animal  crying  after  us. 


MARCHING  ALONG  THE  EDGE  OF  A SAND-DUNE 


TIIH  CAMKLS  HRHAK  DOWN 


527 


The  highest  dunes  now  rose  150  to  200  feet  above  their 
bases,  h'arther  on  again  they  sank  to  100  to  120  feet. 

kai'i^tr /"  cried  Islam  Hai,  as  he  jKiinted  to  a 
raven,  which  circled  two  or  three  times  round  the  caravan, 
hopped  about  on  the  summit  of  a dune,  and  finally  disa])- 
peared.  d'his  incident  awakened  universal  joy.  W'e  looked 
upon  it  as  an  indication  that  the  Khotan-daria  was  not  far 
off.  I'he  raven  was  hardly  likely  to  have  sought  the  depths 
of  the  desert  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  the  thing. 

-After  we  had  gone  i2.l  miles,  Chong-kara,  the  big  black 
camel,  refused  to  go  farther.  'I'his  obliged  us  to  make  camp 
No.  XIII.  We  gave  the  camels  what  was  left  of  Habai’s 
saddle  to  eat ; for  we  had  a good  reserve  supply  in  the  sad- 
dles of  the  other  seven,  which  were  all  stuffed  with  hay  and 
straw. 

My  dinners  grew  gradually  simpler,  till  at  last  I was  forced 
to  content  myself  with  tea,  bread,  and  tinned  foods.  'I'he 
men  lived  on  tea,  bread,  and  talkan  (toasted  Hour).  Our  fuel 
had  pretty  well  run  out.  'I'he  small  supply  we  had  started 
with  was  all  done,  and  we  had  no  resource  left  but  to  sacri- 
fice some  of  the  less  valuable  packing-cases.  In  the  evening 
we  again  took  counsel  together.  We  considered  that,  at  the 
most,  we  had  only  three  days  to  the  Khotan-daria,  but  hoped 
before  then  to  come  to  a belt  of  poplars,  where  we  should  be 
able  to  obtain  water  by  digging  for  it.  -A  couple  of  gnats 
came  and  kept  me  company  in  the  tent.  The  question  was, 
had  they  travelled  with  us  or  had  they  been  blown  to  that 
spot  by  the  wind  from  some  wood  in  the  vicinity? 

April  26th.  At  daybreak,  while  the  men  were  occupied 
with  getting  the  tent  down  and  preparing  the  caravan  for  a 
start,  I set  off  alone,  on  foot,  to  try  and  find  a passage  east- 
ward. From  that  point  I travelled  on  foot  all  the  way  to 
the  Khotan-daria;  consequently  I was  no  longer  able  to  cal- 
culate the  distance  from  the  camel’s  paces.  Instead  of  that, 
I adopted  the  device  of  counting  my  own,  an  occupation 
which  greatly  interested  me.  Every  hundred  paces  I went 
was  so  much  space  won  towards  “land”;  and  with  every 
thousand  my  hopes  of  safety  rose  a degree. 


528 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Meanwhile,  with  my  compass  in  one  hand  and  my  field- 
glass  in  the  other,  I hastened  eastward,  due  eastward ; for 
there  ran  the  river  of  safety.  The  camp,  the  camels  were 
soon  lost  to  sight  behind  the  summits  of  the  sand-hills.  My 
only  companion  was  a solitary  fly,  which  I regarded  with  un- 
usually friendly  eyes.  Otherwise  I was  alone,  absolutely  alone, 
in  the  midst  of  a death-like  silence,  with  a sea  of  yellow  sand- 
dunes  before  me,  rollino-  awav  in  fainter  and  fainter  billows 
right  away  to  the  horizon.  Deeper  Sabbath  peace  never 
brooded  over  any  graveyard  than  that  which  environed  me. 
The  only  thing  wanting  to  convert  the  simile  into  actual  fact 
was  the  headstones  to  the  craves. 

O 

I soon  fancied  the  dunes  were  not  so  high  as  usual.  I 
tried  to  maintain  the  same  level,  as  far  as  possible,  by  keeping 
to  their  crests  and  circling  round  the  highest  points.  I knew 
the  poor  camels  would  have  many  a toilsome,  many  a weary 
step  to  take  in  my  wake.  A bewildering  chaos  of  ridges, 
lying  northeast  to  southwest,  and  east  to  west,  were  flung 
across  one  another  in  the  strangest  fashion.  Our  position 
was  desperate.  The  dunes  burst  up  to  heights  of  140  to  150 
feet.  As  I looked  down  from  the  top  of  one  of  these  giant 
waves,  the  depression  at  my  feet,  on  the  sheltered  side  of  the 
dune,  looked  a long  way  below  me,  at  a giddy  depth.  W'e 
were  being  slowly  but  surel)'  killed  by  these  terrible  ridges 
of  sand.  They  impeded  our  advance;  yet  over  them  we 
must.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  no  evading  them.  Over 
them  we  must — a funeral  procession,  marching  to  the  doleful 
clano-  of  the  camels’  bells. 

I'he  steejier  faces  were  now  turned  towards  the  east  and 
southeast.  Evidently  the  northwest  wind  had  prevailed  in 
this  quarter  during  the  past  few  days.  A good  cris])  breeze 
was  cutting  across  from  that  direction  even  then.  On  its 
wings  rode  every  now  and  again  a few  small  tufts  of  some 
species  of  white  vegetable  down.  Over  one  of  the  ridges 
rolled  a handful  of  dry  and  withered  thistles,  closely  matted 
to<>;ether.  Unfortunatelv,  these  scant  tokens  of  organic  life 
were  wafted  thither  by  the  northwest  wind.  In  all  probabil- 
ity they  had  travelled  a route  coincident  or  ])arallel  with  ours. 


TllK  CAMHLS  HRKAK  DOWN 


529 


Noon  came,  and  I was  near  fainting  from  fatigue  and 
thirst.  The  sun  glowed  like  a furnace  above  iny  head.  I 
was  dead  beat ; I could  not  go  another  stejx  Then  my  friend 
the  fly  swung  round  to  the  other  side  of  me  and  buzzed  such 
a lively  tune  that  he  rou.sed  me  up.  “Just  a little  bit  farther,” 
he  buzzed  in  my  ear.  “ Come,  drag  yourself  on  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  ne.xt  dune.  I ramp  off  another  thousand  paces 
before  you  give  in.  You  will  be  all  the  nearer  to  the  Khotan- 
daria — all  the  nearer  to  the  flood  of  fresh  water  which  rolls 
down  to  Lojj-nor — all  the  nearer  to  the  dancing  waves  of  the 
river,  which  sing  a song  of  life  and  S])ring,  and  of  the  sj)ring  of 
life.”  I tramped  off  the  thousand  paces.  Then  I drojjped  on 
the  top  of  a dune,  rolled  over  on  my  back,  and  pulled  my  white 
cap  over  my  face.  O,  burning  sun!  hasten,  hasten  west- 
ward; melt  the  ice-fields  of  the  “Father  of  the  Ice  Mountains;” 
give  me  but  one  cup  of  the  cold  crystal  streams  which  pour 
from  his  steel-blue  glaciers  and  foam  down  his  mighty  flanks! 

I had  walked  ei<>ht  miles.  It  was  delightful  to  rest;  and 
there  was  a stir  of  air  on  the  dune  top.  I fell  into  a kind  of 
torpor;  I forgot  the  gravity  of  our  situation.  I dreamed  I was 
lying  on  a patch  of  cool  emerald-green  grass,  underneath  a 
leafy  silver  poplar,  and  a gentle  breeze  was  whispering  through 
its  trembling  leaves.  I heard  the  wavelets  beating  their 
melancholy  cadences  against  the  shore  of  a lake,  which 
washed  the  very  roots  of  the  poplar.  A bird  was  singing  in 
the  tree-top — singing  a song  of  mystic  meaning  which  I did 
not  understand.  A beautiful  dream  ! How  gladly  would  I 
have  continued  to  steep  my  soul  in  its  false  illusions!  But 
alas!  alas!  the  hollow  clang  of  the  funeral  bells  again  woke 
me  up  to  the  grim  realities  of  that  evil  desert.  I sat  up.  My 
head  was  hea\y  as  lead ; my  eyes  were  blinded  by  the  glitter- 
ing reflections  of  the  eternal  vellow  sand. 

Up  staggered  the  camels,  their  eyes  dull  and  lustreless, 
like  the  dying  gleams  of  the  setting  sun.  It  was  a look  of 
resignation,  a look  of  indifference ; all  desire  for  food  had 
gone  out  of  it.  Their  breathing  was  labored  and  slow;  their 
breath  more  disagreeable  than  usual.  There  were  only  six 
of  them,  led  by  Islam  Bai  and  Kasim.  The  other  two  men 

1—34 


530 


THROUGH  ASIA 


had  remained  behind  with  Babai  and  Chonor-kara.  Even  at 

O 

the  beginning  of  the  day  Chong-kara’s  legs  had  failed  him. 
“ They  would  come  on  to  camp,”  said  Islam,  “ as  quickly  as 
they  were  able.” 

After  that  the  desert  showed  us  another  of  its  features. 
Every  now  and  again  we  stumbled  into  level  pools  of  incon- 
ceivably fine  dust  lying  embedded  between  the  dunes.  We 
sank  into  them  up  to  the  knees  as  though  we  trod  on  soft 
mud.  Accordingly,  after  that  we  kept  a vigilant  lookout  for 
these  treacherous  spots.  In  other  places  the  sand  was  cov- 
ered with  a thin  sprinkling  of  minute  particles  of  flints  with 
sharp  edges.  They  appeared  to  exercise  much  the  same  sort 
of  influence  upon  the  sand-dunes  that  oil  does  upon  the  waves 
of  the  sea.  Where  they  were  present  the  dunes  were  flat- 
tened down,  rounded  off,  and  lost  their  delicate  rippled 
surface. 

Between  two  of  the  sand-dunes  we  made  a strangely  une.x- 
pected  discovery — namely,  a portion  of  the  skeleton  of  a don- 
key, or,  as  the  men  asserted,  of  a wild  horse.  There  was 
nothing  but  the  leg  bones,  which  were  white  as  chalk,  and  so 
brittle  that  a mere  touch  caused  them  to  crumble  to  pieces 
like  ashes.  The  best  preserved  parts  were  the  hoofs.  They 
were  too  large  to  be  those  of  a donkey,  too  small  to  have  be- 
lono-ed  to  a tame  horse.  What  was  the  creature  doino^  out 

o o 

here  in  the  desert.?  How  long  had  the  bones  lain  there.? 
To  these  questions  the  obdurate  desert  sand  returned  no  an- 
swer. Eor  my  part,  I fail  to  see  why  those  bones  may  not 
have  lain  where  we  found  them  for  thousands  of  years.  I as- 
certained subsequently  from  several  instances  that  the  dry, 
fine  desert  sand  unquestionably  does  possess  the  projierty  of 
preserving  organic  matter  for  a very  long  j^eriod  of  time. 
Perhaps  the  skeleton  had  lain  buried  beneath  the  sand  for 
centuries,  and  had  only  cpiite  recently  been  exposed  through 
the  drifting  away  of  the  sujjerincumbent  dunes. 

We  were  all  comi)letcly  done  up  through  weariness  and 
the  cravings  of  thirst.  We  were  unable  to  drag  ourselves  on 
more  than  another  mile  and  a half,  and  then  halted  on  a patch 
of  hard  level  clay.  There,  too,  we  lighted  upon  a number  of 


THK  CAMELS  HRILAK  DOWN 


531 


curious  objects  -namely,  small,  brittle,  white  snail-shells,  tiny 
pebbles,  which  some  time  or  other  had  been  rolled  and  polishixl 
by  water,  amorphous  pieces  of  flint,  a fragment  of  a mussel- 
shell,  and  a large  quantity  of  j)ipe-like  formations  of  lime- 
stone, as  thou<>;h  lime  had  been  moulded  round  the  stalks  of 
reeds. 

It  was  evening  when  Vollchi  and  Mohammed  Shah  strug- 
gled into  camp,  tired  and  thirsty,  suj)i)orting  their  stej)s  on 
their  hand-staves.  They  came  alone.  I'he  two  camels  re- 
fused to  f?()  anv  farther,  and  so  thev  had  left  them  to  their 
fate.  .As  soon  as  it  turned  a little  cooler  I sent  a man  to 
fetch  them.  1 le  found  that  they  had  picked  up  a bit,  and 
towards  midnight  brought  them  in. 

Our  spirits  all  revived  that  evening.  Looking  to  the  east 
with  my  field-glass,  I thought  the  dunes  were  much  lower,  40 
to  50  feet  at  the  most.  'Lo-morrow  we  should  be  through 
the  high  sand-ridges:  we  should  perhaps  be  able  to  encamp 
in  the  woods  of  the  Khotan-daria ! A glorious  thought!  It 
put  life  into  us  all. 

From  this  point  I did  without  the  tent.  It  was  necessary 
to  husband  our  strength  for  more  essential  exertions.  We 
all  slept  comrade-like  under  the  open  sky.  Yollchi,  however, 
held  aloof  from  us,  and  never  spoke  unless  he  was  sjjoken  to 
first.  There  was  a traitorous  look  in  his  eye;  we  felt  more 
comfortable  when  he  was  out  of  our  sight.  The  word  that 
was  oftenest  heard  during  the  day  was  ''Yaman  ” (Bad  ; things 
look  bad).  But  after  a while  something  of  the  grim  humor 
of  despair  began  to  creep  over  us.  W'e  passed  some  flakes 
of  stone.  One  of  the  men  advised  another  to  look  for  orold. 
But  no  matter  how  the  day  went,  our  spirits  invariably  rose 
as  we  drew  near  to  the  next  camping-place.  Besides,  what 
was  the  use  of  worrying  ourselves  about  the  morrow ; only 
let  us  rest  after  the  toils  and  fatigues  of  that  day,  and  re- 
cover from  its  deceptive  hopes ! After  the  heat  of  the  day 
the  coolness  of  the  night  was  always  welcome. 

In  the  evening,  about  six  o’clock,  a bright  idea  occurred  to 
me.  Why  not  try  to  dig  a well  ? Islam  Bai  and  Kasim  were 
instantly  all  eagerness.  While  the  former  made  haste  to  get 


532 


THROUGH  ASIA 


my  “dinner”  ready  the  latter  set  to  work  to  dig.  He  rolled 
up  his  sleeves,  spat  in  his  hands,  and  laid  hold  upon  the  ket- 
men,  a sharp-pointed  Sart  spade,  the  blade  of  which  was  put 
on  at  right  angles  to  the  shaft.  The  dry  clay  crackled,  and 
Kasim  sans^  as  he  dusf.  After  the  other  two  men  came  into 
camp,  all  three  took  their  turns  in  digging.  In  answer  to  my 
question  whether  there  was  water  there,  Yollchi  smiled  scorn- 
fully, and  said : “ Oh  yes,  there  was  plenty  of  water,  if  we  dug 
down  thirty  gulatsh  (fathoms) !”  Kasim  got  down  about  a 
yard.  The  clay  was  mixed  with  sand  and  it  was  moist! 
Yollchi  was  put  to  shame,  and  worked  with  double  zeal. 
The  hopes  of  all  of  us  revived.  I hurried  through  my  sim- 
ple meal,  and  with  Islam  hastened  to  the  well.  And  at  it  we 
went,  all  five  of  us,  as  hard  as  we  could  work.  The  hole  grew 
deeper.  The  man  digging  could  not  be  seen  from  the  level 
ground  ; nor  was  he  able  to  throw  the  sand  to  the  surface.  A 
rope  was  tied  to  the  handle  of  a bucket,  and  by  that  means 
the  loose  sand  was  drawn  up  to  the  top.  A third  man  emp- 
tied the  bucket.  Gradually  a circular  mound  rose  round  the 
opening,  until  I set  to  work  and  shovelled  it  away  to  make 
room.  We  began  work  at  six  o’clock.  At  that  hour  the 
temperature  of  the  air  was  83.5°  Fahr.  (28.6°  C.) ; of  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth  80.2°  Fahr.  (26.8°  C.).  At  a depth  of  3.1  feet 
the  argillaceous  sand  showed  61.9°  Fahr.  (16.6°  C.),  and  at 
five  feet  54.3°  Fahr.  (12.4°  C.). 

The  material  we  dug  through  was  clayey  sand  of  a grayish 
yellow  color,  and  contained  in  places  reddish  brown  husks, 
the  relics  of  some  species  of  decayed  vegetation.  Of  stones 
there  was  not  a trace. 

It  was  pleasant  and  refreshing  to  lie  on  the  cool  sand. 
The  water  in  the  iron  tanks  was  84.9°  Fahr.  (29.4°  C.)  warm. 
A tinful  was  embedded  in  the  sand  that  was  thrown  out  of 
the  well,  and  it  speedily  became  cool  enough  to  quench  our 
thirst. 

Slowly  and  gradually  the  sand  grew  moister.  It  was  evi- 
dent there  was  water,  although  Yollchi  believed  it  was  a long 
way  down  to  it.  When  we  got  down  about  6.1  feet,  the  sand 
was  so  moist  that  we  could  squeeze  it  into  balls,  and  by  so 


DIGGING  THE  DECEITFUL  WELL 


THK  CAMELS  BREAK  DOWN 


C 

doing  made  our  hands  moist.  And  how  pleasant  it  was  to 
cool  our  heated  cheeks  against  it.  In  this  way  a coui)le  of 
hours  passed.  The  men  had  grown  tired.  Their  breasts  and 
shoulders,  which  were  bare,  dripped  with  perspiration.  'I'hey 
kept  stopping  to  rest  oftener  and  oftener,  and  every  now  and 
again  swallowed  a mouthful  of  water.  Nor  did  our  conscience 
reproach  us  for  the  e.xtravagance ; for  were  we  not  going  to 
fill  our  empty  tanks  at  the  well  we  were  digging.^ 

In  the  mean  time,  it  had  grown  pitch-dark,  and  the  work 
went  on  by  the  light  of  a couple  of  candle-ends  stuck  in  niches 
in  the  sides  of  the  well.  Their  own  instinct  brought  all  the 
animals  round  the  mouth  of  the  hole.  The  camels,  waiting 
impatiently,  stretched  their  long  necks  over  it  and  sniffed  at 
the  cool  wet  sand.  Yolldash  came  and  squatted  down  on  it 
with  his  legs  out-stretched  before  him.  Every  now  and  then 
the  hens,  too,  came  and  took  a ])eep  at  what  was  going  forward. 

Inch  after  inch  we  forced  our  way  down,  working  with  the 
energy  of  desj^air  for  life — dear  life,  d'he  hope  of  deliverance 
gave  us  new  strength.  We  were  resolved  not  to  be  beaten  ; 
we  would  dig  on  all  the  ne.xt  day  before  we  would  give  in. 
W^e  loould  find  water. 

W'e  were  all  standing  in  a ring  round  the  gaping  hole  we 
had  made  in  the  ground,  talking  about  it,  and  watching  Ka- 
sim, who,  half -naked  as  he  was,  looked  strange  and  eerie  in 
the  dimly  lighted  cavity  at  our  feet,  when  all  at  once  he 
stopped,  letting  the  spade  drop  out  of  his  hands.  Then, 
with  a half-smothered  groan,  he  fell  to  the  ground. 

“ What  is  the  matter  what  has  happened  V'  we  asked,  one 
and  all  stupefied  with  amazement. 

''  Kurruk  kum!"  (The  sand  is  dry !)  came  a voice  as  if  from 
the  grave. 

A couple  of  spade-strokes  convinced  us  that  the  man  was 
right : the  sand  had  become  as  dry  as  tinder.  The  deceptive 
moisture  was  possibly  due  to  a fall  of  snow  during  the  win- 
ter, or  to  a shower  of  rain.  But  we  did  not  know  that ; and 
the  sand-dunes  do  not  betray  their  secrets.  We  got  down  as 
far  as  lo^  feet;  and  there  the  temperature  was  52.2°  B'ahr. 
(II.2°  C.). 


534 


THROUGH  ASIA 


This  unwelcome  discovery  made,  we  became  instantly  con- 
scious of  our  weariness,  and  realized  how  much  of  our  pre- 
cious strength  we  had  wasted  during  the  three  hours  we  had 
toiled  in  vain.  We  literally  collapsed,  became  unnerved, 
lost  all  our  energy.  A deep  and  bitter  gloom  darkened  every 
face.  We  shunned  one  another’s  glances.  W e staggered 
away  each  to  his  sleeping-place,  seeking  oblivion  of  our  despair 
in  a long  and  heavy  sleep.  Before  I lay  down  I had  a pri- 
vate conversation  with  Islam  Bai.  We  did  not  conceal  our 
apprehensions  from  each  another.  We  recognized  the  ex- 
treme gravity  of  our  position,  and  pledged  each  other  to  keep 
up  our  own  and  the  other  men’s  courage  to  the  utmost  extrem- 
ity. According  to  my  maps,  we  could  not  be  very  far  from 
the  Khotan-daria;  nevertheless,  it  was  as  well  to  be  prepared 
for  the  worst.  Before  lying  down,  I took  the  opportunity  of 
the  other  men  being  asleep  to  examine  the  contents  of  the 
last  of  the  tanks.  It  contained  sufificient  water  to  last  one 
day.  We  should  have  to  watch  over  it  as  if  it  were  gold. 
In  fact,  if  we  could  have  bought  one  more  day’s  supply  of 
water  with  all  the  money  we  had,  we  should  not  have  hesi- 
tated about  it  a moment.  We  resolved  to  measure  out  the 
last  precious  portions  drop  by  drop.  It  must  be  made  to 
last  three  days:  that  could  be  done  if  we  confined  ourselves 
to  two  cups  a day  to  each  man.  For  three  days  the  camels 
had  not  tasted  a drop,  nor  did  they  get  a drop  more.  Yoll- 
dash  and  the  sheep  got  a bowlful  each  once  a day,  and  on 
that  they  managed  very  well.  Then  we  two  also  sought 
rest,  leaving  the  patient,  docile  camels  standing  in  a circle 
round  the  mocking  well,  waiting  in  vain  for  what  they  could 
not  get. 


CllAPTKR  XLIV 


NO  WA  TER  EKE  I’ 

At  sunrise  of  A])ril  2 7tli  we  did  all  we  could  do  to  ])re- 
serve  the  camels’  strength.  We  took  out  the  hay  stuffing 
of  one  of  the  saddles  and  gave  it  to  them ; they  devoured  it 
greedily,  'hhen  they  looked  about  for  water ; but  we  could 
only  moisten  their  lips.  After  the  hay  they  got  a sackful  of 
old  bread  and  some  oil.  To  relieve  their  burdens  a little  we 
left  behind  us  my  tent-bed,  a carpet,  and  several  other  articles 
of  minor  imjjortance. 

.As  soon  as  1 had  swallowed  my  tea  I hastened  on  in  advance. 
1 was  consumed  with  impatience  to  get  on,  for  the  dunes 
were  lower  than  usual,  not  more  than  thirty-five  feet  in  height. 
All  the  same,  I observed  that  the  brown  substratum,  which 
every  now  and  again  peeped  out  from  underneath  the  sand 
in  the  hollows  between  the  dunes,  was  slightly  uneven  in 
contour ; so  that  the  lower  elevation  of  the  dunes  may  have 
been  due  to  inequalities  in  the  natural  surface  of  the  earth, 
and  to  the  top  of  the  higher  parts  being  less  deeply  buried 
in  sand.  Consequently  I did  not  deceive  myself.  An  hour 
later  I was  again  entangled  in  a maze  of  lofty  sand-dunes, 
quite  as  difficult  to  cross  and  equally  boundless  as  heretofore. 
The  larger  agglomerations  of  dunes  stretched  from  east  to 
west ; while  the  secondary  or  transverse  dunes  lay  from  north 
to  south  or  from  northeast  to  southwest.  The  steep  slopes 
were  now  turned  towards  the  east  and  towards  the  south.  But 
not  a sign  of  life,  not  a single  tamarisk  to  break  the  straight 
line  of  the  horizon,  nothing  to  indicate  the  approximate  pres- 
ence of  “ land.”  My  senses  reeled  as  I gazed  across  that 
desolate  ocean  of  sand  in  the  depths  of  which  we  had  hope- 
lessly lost  ourselves.  Again  and  again,  from  the  top  of  every 


536 


THROUGH  ASIA 


sand  - ridge  I came  to,  I swept  the  horizon  with  my  field- 
glass,  hoping  to  discern  in  the  east  the  dim  dark  line  of  the 
woods  of  the  Khotan-daria.  But  all  in  vain. 

Going  down  the  side  of  one  of  the  dunes,  my  eye  fell  upon 
a small  object  resembling  a root.  I stooped  down  to  pick  it 
up,  when  suddenly  it  darted  away  and  disappeared  in  a little 
hole  on  the  edge  of  the  dune.  It  was  a lizard,  of  the  same 
yellow  color  as  the  sand.  How  did  the  creature  live  ? Did 
it  eat  nothing  ? Did  it  never  want  a drop  of  water  to  drink.-^ 

It  turned  out  a splendid  day.  The  sky  was  flecked  with 
light  feathery  clouds ; the  heat  was  not  at  all  oppressive ; ra- 
diation was  less  active  than  usual.  At  the  end  of  three  and 
a half  hours  I was  overtaken  by  the  caravan,  which  contin- 
ued to  go  well  all  day  long.  But  when  they  came  up,  Mo- 
hammed Shah  and  the  two  sick  camels  were  already  missing. 
“They  were  coming  on  slowly  after  them,”  said  the  other 
men.  High  up  in  the  sky  we  perceived  two  wild  geese, 
scudding  away  to  the  northwest.  This  again  revived  our 
hopes ; for  we  conjectured  that  they  came  from  the  Khotan- 
daria,  and  were  making  for  the  little  desert  lake  that  lay  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountains  we  had  passed.  And  yet,  after  all, 
we  were  only  trying  to  deceive  ourselves;  for  wild  geese  only 
fly  at  such  a great  height  when  they  are  migrating  from  place 
to  place  , and  when  they  are  doing  that,  what  signifies  to 
them  the  crossing:  of  a desert  some  200  miles  broad 

I got  up  on  Boghra’s  back  for  a while,  and  he  received  the 
accession  to  his  burden  without  murmuring.  .As  soon  as  I 
was  mounted  I felt  myself  terribly  tired ; yet  when  I noticed 
how  the  animal’s  knees  tottered  at  every  step  he  took,  I got 
down  again  and  walked. 

That  day  the  sand-hills  were  the  highest  of  any  we  had 
yet  crossed — fully  200  feet  high.  I'he  way  I estimated  their 
height  was  this.  I stationed  myself  a little  way  off  a dune 
along  the  toj)  of  which  the  caravan  was  moving.  I knew  by 
previous  measurement  the  exact  height  of  one  of  the  camels. 
On  a ])cncil  I marked  notches  at  ec|ual  distances  apart,  each 
sj3ace  representing  the  height  of  the  camel.  Then,  holding 
the  j^encil  up  to  my  eye,  I measured  how  many  notched 


NO  WATKR  LHF'r 


537 


spaces  were  required  to  cover  the  height  of  the  dune  ; in 
other  words,  1 measured  how  many  camel’s  heights  it  was. 
Aj)art  from  that  my  eye  alone  told  me  that  the  camel  was  an 
extremely  small  object  as  compared  with  the  dune,  which  was 
more  like  a high  hill.  It  will  readily  be  understood  that 
over  gigantic  billows  of  sand  like  this  we  could  not  advance 
very  rapidly.  We  were  compelled  to  make  many  a detour, 
involving  great  loss  of  time,  in  order  to  avoid  them  ; in  fact, 
we  were  sometimes  comjjelled  to  travel  for  a time  in  the  ex- 
actly opposite  direction  from  that  in  which  we  wanted  to  go. 

Yolldash  kept  close  to  the  water-tanks,  in  which  he  could 
hear  the  last  few  drops  of  the  precious  fluid  splashing  against 
the  sides,  and  whined  and  howled  every  time  he  heard  a splash. 
W'henever  we  stopped,  uncertain  which  way  to  turn,  he  yelped, 
and  sniffed  at  the  tanks,  and  scratched  in  the  sand,  as  if  to 
remind  us  that  we  ought  to  dig  a well,  and  to  let  us  know 
that  he  wanted  water.  When  I lay  down  to  rest  the  dog 
would  come  and  crouch  in  front  of  me,  and  look  me  straight 
in  the  eyes,  as  if  to  ask  me  whether  there  really  was  no  hope. 
I patted  him,  and  spoke  soothingly  to  him,  and  pointed  towards 
the  east,  trying  to  make  him  understand  that  there  was  water 
there.  At  that  he  would  prick  his  ears,  jumj)  up,  and  run  in 
that  direction,  but  he  soon  came  back  again,  downcast  and 
disappointed. 

After  some  trouble  Islam  Bai  and  I climbed  to  the  top  of 
a pyramidal  dune,  and  took  a long  and  searching  reconnais- 
sance of  the  country  ahead  through  my  field -glass.  But 
there  was  no  abatement  of  the  billows  of  sand,  no  gap  in  the 
dunes  towards  which  we  could  steer  our  course.  Everywhere 
the  same  curdled  sea  of  giant  sand-waves.  No  matter  which 
way  we  looked,  we  were  surrounded  by  the  same  desolate, 
lifeless  landscape.  As  the  result  of  our  deliberations  we 
resolved  to  keep  pushing  on  as  long  as  the  six  camels  were 
able  to  walk,  and  until  a really  serious  crisis  confronted  us. 
That  crisis  occurred  at  six  o’clock  that  same  ev^ening,  on  the 
slope  of  a dune  looking  towards  the  north,  where  we  made 
camp  No.  XV.,  a camp  shut  in  on  every  side  by  “ugly” 
country. 


538 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Shortly  after  reaching  camp  we  were  joined  by  Mohammed 
Shah.  He  said  that  ev'en  at  the  beo;innino^  of  the  day’s 
march  the  camels  refused  to  move,  and  he  had  therefore 
abandoned  them  to  their  fate.  One  of  the  two  carried  a 
couple  of  empty  water  - tanks,  and  the  other  had  no  load. 
If  I had  been  there  when  they  stopped  I should  have  had 
them  shot ; for  the  old  man  said  that  at  the  most  they  could 
not  last  longer  than  two  days.  But  he  believed  they  might 
be  saved,  if  we  could  find  water  before  night.  As  it  was,  until 
then,  they  were  abandoned  for  lost,  and  would  have  to  wait  in 
patience  for  a painful  death.  God  grant  it  came  speedily ! 

Mohammed  Shah’s  report  made  an  extremely  painful  im- 
pression upon  me.  I was  to  blame  for  the  loss  of  the  inno- 
cent lives.  It  was  I who  was  answerable  for  every  moment 
of  agony,  every  pang  of  pain,  which  the  men  and  animals  of 
my  caravan  suffered.  I was  not  present,  it  is  true,  when  the 
first  camels  were  delivered  up  to  the  power  of  the  evil  desert. 
But  in  imagination  I saw  the  action  vividly.  It  weighed 
upon  my  conscience  like  a nightmare,  keeping  me  awake  at 
night.  I saw  Babai  lie  down  when  Mohammed  Shah  left  him. 
The  other  camel  remained  standing,  although  his  legs  trem- 
bled under  him,  and,  with  expanded  nostrils  and  shining  eyes, 
followed  the  departing  caravan  with  a wistful  and  reproachful 
look.  But  the  caravan  soon  passed  out  of  sight.  Then  I 
imagined  him  slowly  turning  his  head  towards  his  companion, 
and  thereafter  crouching  down  beside  him.  Then  they  both 
stretched  out  their  necks  alono;  the  sand,  half  closed  their 
eyes,  and  lay  motionless,  breathing  heavily  through  their 
expanded  nostrils.  Their  weariness  increased ; they  rolled 
over  on  their  sides  with  legs  out-stretched.  Their  blood 
coursed  slower  and  slower,  thicker  and  thicker,  through  their 
veins;  the  rigid  torpors  of  death  gradually  stiffened  their 
limbs.  The  pauses  between  their  breathings  became  longer 
and  longer,  until  at  last  the  end  came.  In  all  probability 
Babai  would  die  first,  for  he  was  the  weaker.  But  how  long 
did  that  death-struggle  last  We  shall  never  know.  My 
blood  curdled  with  horror  as  the  thought  flashed  across  my 
mind  that  perhaps  they  might  live  some  days,  and  be  buried 


Tin-:  i-iusT  TWO  c:amei.s  amandonki)  ix  a dyixi;  staik 


NO  WATER  LKi  r 


541 


alive  by  the  sand-storms.  Ah  well ! they  are  now  sleeping 
their  century- long  sleep  under  the  moving  billows  of  the 
remorseless  and  interminable  desert. 

Later  on  in  the  afternoon  we  jjerceived  that  the  western 
sky  was  full  of  thick  steel-blue  clouds,  heavily  charged  with 
rain.  They  were  the  symbols  of  water  and  of  life.  were 

surrounded  by  aridity  and  death.  They  widened  out;  they 
drove  closer  together.  The  sight  of  them  fairly  fascinated  us. 
We  could  not  take  our  eyes  off  them.  Our  hopes  of  rain 
grew  stronger  from  moment  to  moment.  We  set  out  two  of 
the  empty  water-tanks.  We  sjjread  out  the  tent-covering  on 
the  ground,  with  one  man  at  each  corner,  ready  to  hold  it  uj). 
We  waited  and  waited.  But  the  clouds  slowly  drew  over  to 
the  south,  vouchsafing  us  not  a drop. 

Islam  Bai  baked  bread  for  me  for  the  last  time.  Moham- 
med Shah  declared  that  we  had  fallen  under  the  spell  of 
tdesmat — i.e.y  witchcraft  —and  should  never  find  our  way  out 
of  the  desert.  W'ith  superb  calmness,  as  if  stating  a mere 
matter  of  course,  Islam  Bai  remarked  that  the  camels  would 
fall  one  after  the  other,  and  then  it  would  be  our  turn.  It 
was  simply  the  inevitable  course  of  events.  I answered,  I was 
convinced  we  should  iwt  die  in  the  desert.  Yollchi  mocked 
at  my  compass — my  keblch-nameh  (the  shower  of  the  direction 
to  Mekka) — and  swore  it  was  it  which  was  deceiving  us,  by 
leading  us  round  in  a circle.  No  matter  how  many  days  we 
travelled,  he  said,  the  result  would  be  just  the  same.  The 
best  thing  we  could  do  was  not  to  exert  ourselves  unneces- 
sarily : we  were  bound  to  die  of  thirst  at  the  end  of  a few 
days.  I assured  him  that  the  compass  was  a perfectly  trust- 
worthy guide,  and  had  led  us  due  east  all  the  time ; he  had 
only  to  note  the  rise  and  setting  of  the  sun  to  convince  him- 
self of  the  fact.  His  reply  was  that  the  dust-haze,  together 
with  telesmat  (witchcraft),  affected  even  the  sun,  so  that  it 
was  no  longer  to  be  trusted  to. 

On  April  28th  we  were  awakened  by  an  unusually  violent 
hurricane  of  wind  out  of  the  north-northeast,  which  enveloped 
the  camp  in  blinding  clouds  of  sand.  Up  over  the  dunes 
dashed  the  whirling  columns  of  sand,  down  they  plunged  on 


the  lee  side,  and  careered  away  one  after  the  other  in  a fren- 
zied dance.  I tossed  a handful  of  pieces  of  paper  on  the  wind, 
and  watched  how  they  dropped  to  the  ground  directly  they 
got  to  the  sheltered  side  of  the  dunes,  and  there  remained. 
The  atmosphere  was  choked  with  dust  and  sand;  it  was  so 
thick  that  we  were  unable  to  see  the  summits  of  even  the 
nearest  dunes.  We  could  not  possibly  have  steered  our  course 
by  the  sun  that  day.  There  was  not  the  faintest  glimmer  of 
light  in  the  sky  to  indicate  his  position.  This  was  the  worst 
storm  we  had  experienced  throughout  the  whole  of  our  journey 
through  the  desert,  one  of  those  terrible  kara-burans  or  “ black 
storms,”  which  convert  day  into  night. 

We  slept  the  previous  night  under  the  open  sky.  The 
night  being  cool,  I lay  down  wrapped  in  my  furs,  with  a bashlik 
(hood)  pulled  round  my  head.  In  the  morning,  when  I awoke, 
I was  literally  buried  in  sand.  A thick  sheet  of  fine  yellow 
sand  covered  my  neck  and  breast.  Fine  yellow  sand  had 
penetrated  through  every  opening  in  my  clothing.  When  I 
stood  up  it  slipped  doum  inside  my  shirt  next  my  skin,  so  that 
I had  to  take  off  my  clothes  and  shake  them.  My  furs  were 
indistinguishable  from  the  surface  of  the  dune.  Every  object 
about  the  camp  was  in  a precisely  similar  plight,  half  smoth- 
ered in  sand.  It  cost  us  a great  deal  of  trouble  to  fish  them 
all  out  with  our  hand-staves. 

The  going  that  day  was  fearful.  We  could  not  get  a 
glimpse  of  our  surroundings ; we  did  not  know  which  way 
to  go.  But  the  air  was  cool,  and  that  and  the  gale  made  us 
forcjet  the  cravings  of  thirst. 

That  day  I was  unable,  of  course,  to  go  on  in  advance; 
my  footsteps  would  have  been  obliterated  almost  instantly. 
All  we  could  do  was  to  stick  close  together,  men  and  animals 
in  a clump.  If  you- once  get  separated  from  your  companions 
in  such  a storm  as  that,  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  make  your- 
self heard  by  shouting,  or  even  by  rilie  shots.  The  deafen- 
ing roar  of  the  hurricane  overpowers  every  other  sound.  If 
you  do  get  separated  from  them  you  are  bound  to  wander 
astray,  and  so  become  irretrievably  lost.  All  that  I could  see 
was  the  camel  immediately  in  front  of  me.  Everything  else 


'HIE  EAST  FIVE  CAMELS 


NO  WATER  LIA"!' 


545 


was  swallowed  up  in  the  thick,  impenetrable  haze.  Nor  can 
you  hear  anything  except  the  peculiar  whining  and  moaning 
made  by  the  millions  upon  millions  of  grains  of  sand  as  they 
whiz  without  cessation  j)ast  your  ears.  Ferha])s  it  was  this 
eerie  sound  which  worked  upon  the  imagination  of  Marco 
Polo,  and  led  him,  when  speaking  of  the  (ireat  Desert,  to 
write  thus:  “Even  in  the  daytime  one  hears  those  spirits 
talk.  And  sometimes  you  shall  hear  the  sound  of  a variety 
of  musical  instruments,  and  still  more  commonly  the  sound 
of  drums.  Hence  in  making  this  journey  ’tis  customary  for 
travellers  to  keep  close  together.  .All  the  animals,  too,  have 
bells  at  their  necks,  so  that  they  cannot  easily  get  astray. 
And  at  sleeping  time  a signal  is  jnit  up  to  show  the  direction 
of  the  next  march.’’* 

W'e  had  a hard  and  trying  march.  Through  the  greater 
part  of  the  middle  of  the  day  it  was  as  dark  as  pitch  ; at 
other  times  we  were  environed  by  a dim,  murky  light,  half 
yellow,  half  gray.  Several  times  when  the  sand-blast  met  us 
full  in  the  teeth  we  were  nearly  suffocated.  In  fact,  when 
the  more  violent  gusts  struck  us  we  crouched  down  with  our 
faces  on  the  ground,  or  pressed  them  against  the  sheltered 
side  of  a camel.  Even  the  camels  turned  their  backs  to  the 
wind  and  stretched  out  their  necks  flat  alone;  the  e;round. 

The  sand-hills  grew  no  lower,  but  towered  up  in  front  of 
us  as  high  as  ever  they  did.  No  sooner  had  we  surmounted 
one  summit  than  we  saw  another  loomine;  out  of  the  haze 
ahead  of  us.  During  the  course  of  the  day  one  of  the 
younger  camels  gave  up.  It  was  easy  to  see  the  animals 
were  exhausted.  They  staggered,  their  legs  trembled,  a dull, 
glassy  look  was  in  their  eyes,  their  lower  lip  hung  limply, 
their  nostrils  were  expanded.  We  were  in  the  act  of  labori- 
ously surmounting  the  summit  of  a dune,  where  the  storm 
seemed  to  rage  with  tenfold  fury,  when  Yollchi,  who  was 
leading  the  dying  camel  last  of  all  in  the  order  of  march, 
came  hurrying  forward  alone.  He  was  afraid  to  lose  sight 

* From  H.  Yule’s  The  Book  of  Ser  Marco  Polo  the  Venetian.  London, 
1874-5.  vo'-  i-  P-  203. 

1-35 


546 


THROUGH  ASIA 


of  us,  lest  he  should  not  find  us  again.  The  camel  had  not 
been  able  to  get  over  the  last  crest,  he  said,  but  had  fallen 
close  to  the  top  and  rolled  over  on  his  side,  and  would  not 
get  up.  I commanded  the  caravan  to  halt,  and  sent  back 
two  of  the  other  men  to  see  if  they  could  not  somehow  per- 
suade the  camel  to  rise  and  follow  us.  They  disappeared  in 
the  dust-haze,  but  soon  came  back,  saying  that  the  trail  was 
already  obliterated,  and  they  had  not  dared  to  go  too  far  from 
the  caravan. 

Thus  we  lost  our  third  camel,  which,  like  the  other  two, 
was  abandoned  to  a painful  death  in  the  desert.  We  gradu- 
ally became  hardened  to  these  affecting  losses.  Our  only 
concern  now  was  to  save  our  own  liv^es.  When  people  fall 
into  such  desperate  straits  as  we  were  in,  their  feelings  get 
blunted,  and  they  grow  indifferent  to  the  sufferings  of  others. 
Every  morning  when  we  started  I used  silently  to  question 
myself.  Whose  turn  will  it  be  next  to  start  on  the  long,  dark 
journey  that  hath  no  end  ? 

At  six  o’clock  in  the  evening  we  stopped,  having  travelled 
I2f  miles  during  the  day.  After  carefully  considering  our 
situation  we  agreed  to  abandon  everything  that  was  not  ab- 
solutely necessary.  I and  Islam  Bai  went  through  our  stores 
seriatim.  We  unpacked  the  cases  of  sugar,  flour,  honey,  rice, 
potatoes,  and  other  vegetables,  macaroni,  and  two  or  three 
hundred  tins  of  preserved  foods.  The  greater  part  of  these 
things,  together  with  several  furs  and  felts,  cushions,  books, 
a big  bundle  of  journals,  the  cooking-stove,  and  petroleum- 
cask  were  stowed  away  in  boxes  and  covered  up  with  carpets, 
and  left  in  a hollow  between  two  dunes.  On  the  summit  of 
the  next  dune,  which  was  visible  for  a long  distance,  we 
planted  a staff,  and  fastened  to  it  a number  of  a Swedish 
journal,  so  as  to  make  a flag.  It  was  our  intention,  if  we 
found  water,  to  come  back  and  fetch  the  things  we  left.  Con- 
sequently, during  the  course  of  the  evening  we  made  a score 
of  laths  out  of  the  lid  of  a packing-case,  and  tied  a number 
of  the  same  journal  round  each.  Fhcse  little  flags  we  jjur- 
posed  to  stick  in  the  tops  of  the  highest  dunes  we  crossed 
during  the  succeeding  days,  so  that,  like  buoys  in  an  unfa- 


NO  WAT  HR  HHFT 


547 


miliar  fairway,  they  might  serve  to  guide  us  to  camp  No. 
XV' 1 1.,  where  we  left  our  stores, 

I picked  out  all  the  tinned  provisions  which  contained 
anything  of  a licpiid  nature,  such  as  mushrooms,  lobsters,  and 
sardines.  My  men,  having  convinced  themselves  that  the 
tins  contained  no  j)ork  or  bacon,  ate  up  their  contents  with 
<ireat  delight.  What  thev  did  not  eat  were  used  next  day. 
The  remainder  of  the  water,  scarcely  3.^  j)ints,  was  put  into 
two  kinioans  (iron  pitchers).  W^e  took  with  us  the  last  two 
tanks,  in  case  we  should  discover  water.  The  camels  had 
another  of  the  saddle  stuffings,  but  they  did  not  eat  it  with 
any  appetite,  for  their  throats  were  parched  up.  I had  tea 
for  the  last  time,  and  made  a thorough  good  meal  off  moist 
tinned  provisions. 

April  29th.  W'^e  started  at  daybreak  with  the  five  camels 
which  still  survived.  Just  as  we  were  starting,  Islam  Bai 
came  and  with  a heavy  heart  told  me  he  had  found  one  of 
the  iron  jDitchers  empty,  and  that  he  and  the  other  men  sus- 
pected Yollchi  of  having  drunk  the  water,  for  they  had  heard 
him  moving  stealthily  about  and  fumbling  in  the  dark.  How- 
ever, we  had  no  proof  that  he  was  guilty;  but  our  suspicions 
against  him  were  strengthened  when  he  came  creeping  to  my 
feet,  complaining  of  pains  in  the  breast  and  stomach.  W'e 
believed  it  was  all  pretence.  Nevertheless  it  was  my  duty 
to  set  an  example  to  the  rest,  and  keep  up  the  other  men’s 
courage,  so  I gave  him  half  of  my  allotted  portion  to  drink. 
After  that  we  lost  sight  of  him ; nor  did  he  show  himself 
asrain  until  the  followinsr  morning. 

W'e  vainly  scanned  the  horizon  for  “ land.’  There  was 
not  a sign  of  a living  creature  to  be  seen.  The  desert  ocean 
extended  before  us  and  around  us  to  an  infinite  distance. 
The  country  decreased  a little  in  elevation,  but  the  relative 
dryness  of  the  atmosphere  remained  unaltered.  The  ridges 
now  stretched  from  north  to  south,  their  steep  sides  being 
again  turned  towards  the  west,  which  of  course  greatly  added 
to  tne  difficulties  of  our  advance.  Looking  eastward  from 
the  top  of  a high  crest  we  had  before  us  an  unending  suc- 
cession of  steep  banks  of  sand,  which,  by  an  optical  illusion. 


548 


THROUGH  ASIA 


looked  like  a series  of  easy  steps.  Westward  the  eye  glided 
across  the  long,  sloping,  windward  faces  of  the  dunes,  so  that 
towards  that  quarter  the  surface  appeared  almost  level.  The 
effect  of  this  was  to  reduce  us  to  despair.  We  fancied  the 
dunes  were  growing  higher  and  higher,  and  consequently  the 
road  more  and  more  difficult  with  every  step  we  took.  Here, 
too,  the  sheltered  sides  of  the  dunes  frequently  showed  a 
sprinkling  of  minute  fragments  of  micaceous  schist  of  a 
steel-gray  color. 

' This  day  our  hopes  were  spurred  by  the  discovery  of  the 
skeleton  of  a vole  (gen.  Arvicola),  as  well  as  of  a hoary, 
withered  poplar.  And  yet  it  was  building  upon  an  ex- 
tremely slender  foundation,  for  the  vole’s  skeleton  may  have 
been  carried  to  the  spot  where  we  found  it  by  a bird,  and  the 
poplar  was  without  a root.  If  only  it  had  been  rooted  in  the 
ground ! That  alone,  for  as  little  a thing  as  it  was,  would 
have  kindled  our  hopes  anew. 

We  travelled  through  that  awful  sand  the  whole  day;  con- 
sequently our  ]Dace  was  painfully  slow.  The  camels’  bells 
echoed  at  longer  intervals  apart,  for  the  poor  creatures  were 
half  dead  with  fatigue.  All  the  same  thev  still  marched  on 

O ✓ 

with  the  same  calm  dignity  and  majestic  gait  which  always 
distinguish  them.  Their  excrement  contained  next  to  no 
straw,  for  they  were  living  almost  entirely  upon  their  own 
flesh,  and  were  growing  fearfully  thin.  I'licy  presented  a 
wretched  appearance,  every  rib  they  had  plainly  showing 
throus:h  their  hair.  The  three  camels  we  had  abandoned 
were  no  doubt  by  this  time  dead ; in  any  case,  it  was  too 
late  to  do  anything  to  save  them,  even  though  we  should 
come  across  water  immediately. 

It  was  a still,  calm  day,  although  the  atmosphere  was  still 
saturated  with  dust.  I'he  men  said,  and  with  truth,  that  it 
was  Grod’s  blessing  the  ])ast  few  days  had  lieen  cool,  and  we 
had  not  had  the  burning  sun  to  contend  against.  Otherwise 
every  camel  we  had  would  have  given  in,  and  we  ourseKcs 
should  be  on  our  last  legs. 

I walked  for  twelve  and  a half  hours  without  sto])ping; 
we  covered  altogether  nearly  seventeen  miles  before  we  en- 


NO  WATKR  LKFT 


5-19 


camped  for  the  night,  l^astward  there  was  not  the  slightest 
sign  of  an  improvement  in  the  surface  of  the  country.  The 
same  billowy  sea  of  sand  stretched  right  away  to  the  horizon  ; 
there  was  not  a single  object  e.xcept  sand  upon  which  the  eye 
could  rest. 

April  30th.  The  thermometer  fell  to  a minimum  of  41.2° 
h'ahr.  (5.1  C.),  and  even  when  morning  came  it  was  decided- 
ly cold.  Clouds  of  hue  dust  still  doated  about  in  the  atmos- 
phere : but  it  cleared  sufficiently  to  let  us  see  the  position  of 
the  sun — /T.,  a faint  brightening  that  loomed  through  the 
haze.  We  gave  the  camels  another  saddle  stuffing  and  all 
the  bread  we  had,  and  so  considered  they  would  be  able  to 
last  out  another  day.  I'here  were  two  tumblerfuls  of  water 
left  in  one  of  the  pitchers.  While  the  men  were  engaged  in 
loading  up  for  the  start,  Islam  Hai  caught  Yollchi  with  his 
back  to  his  comrades  and  the  pitcher  at  his  mouth.  'I'here 
ensued  an  unpleasant  and  painful  scene.  Islam  Hai  and 
Kasim,  boiling  with  rage.  Hung  themselves  upon  Yollchi, 
hurled  him  to  the  ground,  struck  him  in  the  face,  kicked 
him,  and  would  assuredly  have  killed  him  had  I not  inter- 
vened with  my  authority,  and  compelled  them  to  let  him  get 
up.  He  had  drunk  half  of  what  there  was,  leaving  about  one- 
third  of  a pint.  At  noon  I proposed  moistening  each  man’s 
lips,  and  in  the  evening  intended  to  divide  what  was  left  into 
five  equal  portions.  I wondered  how  many  days  we  should 
hold  out  after  that.  Mohammed  Shah  said  that  once  in 
Tibet,  many  years  before,  he  had  struggled  on  for  thirteen 
days  without  water. 

Asain  the  funeral  bells  beo-an  their  mournful  dinor-done, 
ding-dong;  the  caravan  got  into  motion  for  the  east.  At 
first  the  dunes  were  only  25  feet  high ; but  we  had  not  ad- 
vanced far  before  we  were  once  more  struggling  through  the 
mazes  cliong-knvi  (big  sand).  A little  wagtail  circled  round 
the  caravan,  twittering,  and  once  more  caused  our  rapidly  e.x- 
piring  hopes  to  flicker  up.  Islam  Bai  was  so  encouraged  by 
the  incident  that  he  proposed  to  go  on  in  advance  with  the 
iron  pitchers  and  fetch  water  for  us  all.  But  I said  “ No.”  I 
needed  him  now  more  than  ever;  and  we  went  on  all  together. 


550 


THROUGH  ASIA 


From  the  very  start  almost  Yollchi  was  missing.  The 
other  men  believed  that  he  was  unable  to  keep  up  with  us 
any  longer,  but  would  die  on  our  track.  They  were  all  em- 
bittered against  the  man.  At  the  last  lake  we  passed,  he 
swore  that  we  only  needed  to  carry  water  sufficient  for  four 
days,  and  undertook  within  that  space  to  bring  us  to  a region 
where  we  could  get  water  by  digging  for  it.  But  the  men 
believed  that,  from  the  very  beginning,  he  had  entertained 
a treacherous  design  against  us,  that  he  had  of  deliberate 
purpose  led  us  into  a part  of  the  desert  where  we  must  in- 
evitably perish  of  thirst,  that  he  had  stolen  some  of  the  water 
for  his  own  secret  use  while  he  hastened,  after  the  wreck  of 
our  caravan,  to  inhabited  parts  to  fetch  some  other  “gold 
seekers  ” of  the  same  stamp  as  himself  to  come  and  plunder 
my  goods.  It  was  not  easy  to  determine  how  much  of 
truth  there  was  in  this  theory,  and  the  matter  was  never 
cleared  up. 

Every  evening  up  to  this  point  I had  kept  a fully  detailed 
account  of  each  day’s  incidents  in  my  journal ; and  those  ac- 
counts constitute  the  foundation  of  my  description  of  that 
awful  journey.  The  last  lines  I wrote  in  my  book,  which 
might  have  been  the  last  I ever  was  to  write  at  all,  were 
penned  on  the  afternoon  of  April  30th,  and  ran  as  follows: 

“ Rested  on  a high  dune,  where  the  camels  gave  uj).  We 
scanned  the  eastern  horizon  with  a field-glass — nothing  but 
mountains  of  sand  in  every  direction,  not  a blade  of  vegeta- 
tion, not  a sign  of  life.  Nothing  heard  of  Yollchi,  either  in 
the  evening  or  during  the  night.  My  men  maintained  he 
had  CTone  back  to  the  stores  we  left  behind,  intending  to 
keep  himself  alive  on  the  tinned  provisions,  while  he  fetched 
help  to  carry  off  the  rest.  Islam  believed  he  was  dead. 
There  were  still  a few  drops  of  water  left  for  the  morning, 
about  a tumblerful  in  all.  Half  of  this  was  used  in  moisten- 
ing the  men’s  lips.  The  little  that  remained  was  to  be  divid- 
ed ccpially  between  us  all  in  the  evening.  But  when  even- 
ing came  we  discovered  that  Kasim  and  Mohammed  Shah, 
who  led  the  caravan,  had  stolen  every  drop ! We  were  all 
terribly  weak,  men  as  well  as  camels.  God  help  us  all !” 


NO  WATER  LI*:FT 


55' 


My  account  of  what  liappened  during  the  immediately  suc- 
ceeding days  rests  upon  pencil  notes  scribbled  on  a sheet  of 
folded  paj)er.  Hut  besides  recording  the  course  of  e\ents,  I 
never  under  any  circumstances  omitted  to  note  the  bearings 
of  the  com])ass,  and  to  count  the  number  of  paces  I took  in 
each  direction.  When  at  last  I found  leisure  to  rest  on  the 
banks  of  the  Khotan-daria,  it  was  my  first  and  principal  con- 
cern to  write  out  my  notes  with  complete  fulness  of  detail,  so 
long  as  the  particulars  were  fresh  in  my  memory. 


CHAPTER  XLV 


THE  CAMP  OF  DEATH 

May  ist.  The  night  was  cold;  the  thermometer  fell  to 
35.9°  P'ahr.  (2.2°  C.),  the  lowest  reading  we  had  during  the 
twent)^-six  days  we  were  crossing  the  desert.  But  the  atmos- 
phere was  pure,  and  the  stars  glittered  with  incomparable 
brilliancy.  The  morning  dawned  calm  and  gloriously  bright 
— not  a speck  of  cloud  in  the  sky,  not  a breath  of  wind  on 
the  tops  of  the  dunes.  No  sooner  had  the  sun  risen  than  it 
began  to  be  warm. 

The  ist  of  May!  The  day  which  in  the  Northern  land  of 
my  birth  marks  the  beginning  of  spring.  What  a crowd  of 
happy  recollections,  of  joy,  of  pleasure,  of  cheerful  gayety;  and, 
above  all,  what  pleasant  memories  of  the  social  cup  and  its 
pearly  contents  are  there  not  associated  with  those  poetic 
words  — the  ist  of  May!  I tried  to  persuade  myself  that 
even  in  the  barren  deserts  of  the  Far  East  the  same  day 
would  also  be  a day  of  rejoicing.  On  the  ist  of  May  a year 
ago  I arrived  at  Kashgar,  where  I found  both  rest  and  com- 
fort after  the  severe  inflammation  which  attacked  my  eyes; 
and  I hoped  that  this  ist  of  May  would  again  mark  a turn- 
ing-point  in  our  destinies — and  it  did  ! 

hiarly  in  the  morning  Yollchi,  whom  we  all  looked  u])on  as 
dead,  once  more  put  in  an  appearance  in  camp.  He  had  re- 
covered, and  was  so  bold  as  to  j^rophesy  that  we  should  cer- 
tainly discover  water  before  the  day  was  over.  'Phe  other  men 
refused  to  s])eak  to  him,  but  sat  silent  and  downcast,  drinking 
the  last  few  drops  that  remained  of  the  camels’  rancid  oil,  which 
they  had  warmed,  and  eating  some  fragments  of  stale  bread. 
All  the  previous  day  1 had  not  tasted  a droj)  of  water.  But 
suffering  the  extreme  tortures  of  thirst,  1 ventured  to  swallow 


Till-:  CAMP  ()1‘  DKATII 


553 


about  a tumblerful  of  the  horrible  and  abominable  concoction 
which  the  Chinese  call  brandy,  stuff  that  we  carried  to  burn 
in  our  Primus  cookim^-stove.  It  burned  my  throat  like  oil  of 
\itriol.  Vet  what  of  that?  It  was  at  any  rate  li([uid,  and  so 
calculated  to  maintain  the  moisture  of  my  body.  When  Yoll- 
dash  saw  me  drinkingj  he  came  running  up,  wagging  his  tail. 
But  when  I showed  him  it  was  not  water,  he  slunk  away  down- 
cast and  whining.  I'ortunately  the  men  refused  to  touch  the 
liquor.  Afterwards  I hurled  the  bottle  with  loathing  into  the 
side  of  a dune. 

1 lowever,  in  the  mean  time  my  strength  left  me,  and  as  the 
caravan  slowly  struggled  on,  ever  towards  the  east,  my  legs 
failed  and  refused  to  carry  me  farther.  In  the  still  atmos- 
phere the  funereal  camels’  bells  rang  out  clearer  than  ever 
before.  We  had  left  three  graves  behind  us.  How  many 
more  were  we  destined  to  leave  by  the  side  of  our  track  ? 
The  funeral  procession  was  rapidly  ajjproaching  the  church- 
yard. 

Islam  Bai  went  on  first,  compass  in  hand.  The  five  camels 
were  led  by  Mohammed  Shah  and  Kasim.  Yollchi  followed 
close  behind  the  last  camel  and  ur«:ed  on  the  string.  Dead 
tired,  and  tortured  by  a consuming  thirst,  I staggered  on  a 
long  way  behind  in  the  rear  of  the  caravan.  Down  they 
went  out  of  sight  behind  each  sand-hill  in  turn ; then  up  they 
mounted  again  to  the  crest  of  the  next  after  it.  The  echo  of 
the  camels’  bells  sounded  fainter  and  fainter,  and  at  longer 
and  longer  intervals,  until  at  last  they  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

I dragged  myself  on  a few  steps  farther ; then  I fell  again. 
I scrambled  up,  reeled  on  a short  distance,  and  once  more 
fell.  This  was  repeated  time  after  time.  I could  no  longer 
hear  the  sound  of  the  camels’  bells. 

A dead  silence  reigned  all  round  me.  But  the  carav^an 
had  left  its  trail  behind.  This  I stuck  to  like  grim  death,  all 
the  time  steadily  counting  my  heavy,  dragging  footsteps.  At 
length,  from  the  summit  of  a dune,  I once  more  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  caravan.  It  had  halted.  The  five  camels 
were  dead  beat,  and  had  thrown  themselves  down.  Old 


554 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Mohammed  Shah  lay  flat  on  his  face  on  the  sand,  mumbling 
prayers  and  crying  to  Allah  for  help.  Kasim  sat  in  such 
shade  as  he  could  find  behind  one  of  the  camels,  and  gasped 
for  breath.  He  told  me  the  old  man  was  completely  done 
up,  and  unable  to  go  another  step.  All  the  way,  ever  since 
they  started,  he  had  been  delirious,  raving  about  water  the 
whole  time. 

Islam  Bai  was  a long  way  on  ahead.  We  shouted  to  him 
to  come  back.  He  was  now  far  the  strongest  of  us  all,  and 
again  proposed  to  hurry  on  on  foot  with  the  iron  pitchers. 
He  thought  he  could  do  thirty-five  miles  during  the  night. 
But  when  he  saw  the  pitiable  condition  to  which  I was  re- 
duced he  abandoned  the  idea.  After  we  had  rested  awhile, 
Islam  had  another  plan.  He  suggested  we  should  seek  a 
piece  of  firm  ground,  and  use  such  strength  as  remained  to 
us  in  digging  a well.  Meanwhile  he  undertook  to  lead  the 
caravan.  The  white  camel  was  freed  of  his  load,  consisting 
of  the  two  ammunition-chests,  two  European  saddles,  and  a 
carpet.  These  things  we  intended  to  leave  behind.  Then  with 
great  difficulty,  Islam  helping  me,  I scrambled  on  the  white 
camel’s  back.  But  the  animal  refused  to  get  up.  It  now  be- 
came clear  to  us  all  that  it  was  impossible  to  go  on  any  longer 
groping  our  way  in  this  fashion  in  the  burning  heat;  esj)ecially 
as  Mohammed  Shah  was  perfectly  delirious,  laughing  to  him- 
self, weeping,  babbling,  playing  with  the  sand,  and  letting  it 
run  between  his  fingers.  He  was  absolutely  unable  to  go 
any  farther,  and  we  could  not,  of  course,  abandon  him. 

We  resolved,  therefore,  to  remain  where  we  were  until  the 
hottest  part  of  the  day  was  past,  and  then  continue  our 
journey  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  and  during  the  night.  We 
let  the  camels  remain  where  they  had  thrown  themselves 
down,  but  took  off  their  loads.  Islam  and  Kasim  once  more 
put  up  the  tent,  so  that  we  might  get  a little  shade  in  the  in- 
side of  it.  They  spread  our  last  carj)et  and  a couple  of  felts 
on  the  ground,  and  rolled  up  a sack  to  serve  as  a pillow.  I 
then  crept  in-  -literally  crejjt  in  on  my  hands  and  knees — took 
off  all  my  clothes,  and  lay  down  on  the  bed.  Islam  and 
Kasim  followed  my  exami)le,  and  so  did  Yolldash  and  the 


THK  CAMP  OF  DEATH 


555 


sheep — that  is  to  say,  they  too  came  inside  the  tent.  Yollclii 
remained  outside,  keeping  in  the  shade.  Mohammed  .Shah 
still  lay  where  he  first  fell.  The  poultry  were  the  only  creat- 
ures in  the  caravan  which  kept  up  their  spirits.  They  .saun- 
tered about  in  the  blazing  sunshine,  picking  at  the  camels’ 
pack-saddles  and  the  provision  bags.  .\s  yet  it  was  only 
half  past  nine.  W'e  had  not  covered  more  than  three  miles, 
and  had  an  interminably  long  day  before  us.  Nobody  ever 
longed  for  sunset  so  earnestly  as  we  did  that  ist  of  May  in 
the  year  1895. 

I was  comjiletely  overcome  by  weariness,  and  scarce  had 
strength  to  turn  myself  over  in  bed.  At  this  time  despair 
took  possession  of  me — though  never  before,  and  never  after- 
wards. All  my  past  life  flitted  before  my  mind  as  in  a dream. 
I thought  I saw  the  earth,  and  all  the  noisy  world  of  men 
and  their  doings ; and  they  seemed  to  me  to  be  at  an  im- 
mense distance  from  me,  absolutely  unattainable.  I thought 
all  this  disappeared,  and  the  gates  of  eternity  stood  ajar,  and 
I felt  as  if  in  a few  hours  I should  be  standing  on  their  thresh- 
old. I thought  of  my  home  in  the  Far  North  ; and  my 
soul  was  harrowed  when  I pictured  the  uneasiness,  the  anxi- 
ety which  would  seize  upon  those  who  were  near  and  dear 
to  me  when  we  never  came  back  and  nothing  was  heard  of 
us.  They  would  wait  expectantly  year  after  year,  and  they 
would  wait  in  vain;  no  information  would  ever  reach  them. 
There  would  be  nobody  to  tell  the  tidings  of  our  fate.  Mr. 
Petrovsky  would,  of  course,  send  out  messengers  to  inquire 
about  us.  They  would  go  to  Merket,  and  would  there  learn 
that  we  left  that  place  on  April  loth,  intending  to  steer  our 
course  due  east.  But  by  then  our  trail  would  be  long  oblit- 
erated in  the  sand;  and  it  would  be  absolutely  impossible  to 
know  in  which  direction  we  had  gone.  By  the  time  a system- 
atic and  thoroughly  exhaustive  search  could  be  set  on  foot, 
our  bodies  would  probably  have  been  buried  several  months 
under  the  unresting,  devouring  billows  of  sand. 

After  that  an  endless  panorama  of  pictures  from  my  former 
travels  passed  in  succession  before  my  mind’s  eye.  I had 
travelled  through  all  the  Mohammedan  countries  of  Asia  for 


556 


THROUGH  ASIA 


a whole  year  like  a dervish,  and  now  I had  reached  my  last 
Camping-ground.  Fate  said  to  me,  “ Thus  far  shalt  thou  go, 
but  no  farther.”  Here  the  strong  pulses  of  my  life  were  to 
cease.  It  was  ten  years  ago  when  I first  set  out  on  my 
travels.  I had  admired  the  Palace  of  the  Forty  Columns  at 
Ispahan.  I had  listened  to  the  waves  of  the  Saiendeh-rud 
beating  against  the  pillars  of  Shah  Abbas’s  marble  bridges, 
and  enjoyed  the  cool  shades  of  Cyrus’s  mausoleum.  In  the 
temple  halls  of  Xerxes  and  of  Darius,  and  in  the  pillared 
arcades  of  Persepolis,  I had  learned  to  understand  the  truth 
of  the  poet’s  words — 

“Det  harliga  pa  jorden,  fdrganglig  ar  dess  lott.” 

(To  perish  is  the  lot  of  all  things  here  below.) 

How  beautiful  it  was  to  rest  under  the  shade  of  the  date- 
])alms  of  Basrah  ! Would  that  the  Tigris  could  offer  me  a 
few  drops  of  its  muddy  water ! What  would  I not  have  given 
the  water-carrier  of  Bagdad  for  his  skinful  of  the  precious 
fluid,  which  he  hawked  about  through  her  narrow  streets  and 
lanes,  getting  a few  copper  coins  for  an  ass’s  load.  I thought 
of  my  adventures  in  the  land  where  the  incidents  of  the 
Thousand  and  One  Nights  are  everyday  occurrences.  Nine 
years  previously  I had  left  Bagdad  with  a caravan  of  Arabian 
merchants  and  Mecca  pilgrims  with  fifty  francs  in  my  pocket, 
which  I relied  upon  to  take  me  to  Teheran.  But  the  slow 
rate  of  travel  and  the  monotonous  mode  of  life  were  too  much 
for  my  patience.  One  dark  night  I ran  away  from  the  cara- 
van, in  company  with  an  Arab  to  whom  I gave  the  little 
money  I had  left. 

Our  horses  were  almost  done  up  when  we  came  within 
sight  of  Kermanshahan.  I went  to  a rich  .Arab  merchant 
living  there,  named  Aga  Mohammed  Hassan.  I remember 
how  his  eyes  sparkled  when  I told  him  1 was  a son  of  Charles 
XII.’s  country.  He  wanted  to  keep  me  as  his  guest  for  half 
the  year.  I could  only  stay  with  him  a few  days;  but  during 
those  few  days  I lived  the  life  of  Nur-ed-l)in  Ali  in  the 
Thousand  and  One  Nights.  Over  against  the  house  in  which 
I lived  there  was  an  enchanting  garden,  full  of  sweet-scented 


THE  CAMP  OF  DEATH 


Till*:  CAMP  OF  DHATH 


559 


roses  and  lilacs  in  full  bloom.  The  paths  were  strewn  with 
chips  of  marble,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  garden  there  was  a 
pure  white  marble  basin  filled  with  crystal  water.  I'rom  the 
centre  of  the  basin  a fountain  shot  up  a delicate  rod  of  water, 
which  broke  at  the  top  and  fell  back  in  a thousand  drojis, 
sjiarkling  like  a silver  cobweb  in  the  sunshine.  And  when 
at  last  I tore  myself  away  from  these  fascinating  delights,  my 
generous  host  pressed  into  my  hand  a purse  overflowing  with 
silver  coins. 

I saw  before  me,  every  feature  distinct,  the  noble  and  wise 
countenance  of  the  unhappy  Shah,  Nasr-ed-  Din,  as  he  was 
when,  his  uniform  blazing  with  jewels,  he  received  King  (Os- 
car's embassy  in  the  Imperial  Palace  at  Teheran  ; and  that 
carried  my  thoughts  back  to  the  Plmaret  Sepa  Salar,  where 
we  lodeed,  and  where  of  an  evening  we  strolled  underneath 
the  spreading  planes  and  cypresses. 

All  these  scenes  of  the  past  flitted  through  my  mind  like 
a dream  ; but  those  adventures  were  as  nothing  in  compari- 
son with  what  we  had  just  gone  through. 

Thus  I lay  all  day  long,  wide  awake,  with  my  eyes  open, 
staring  at  the  white  covering  of  the  tent,  without  fixing  my 
gaze  upon  any  one  definite  object,  but  seeing  everything  in 
a blurred,  confused  chaos.  Once  or  twice  only  did  my  vision 
grow  dim  and  faint,  and  my  thoughts  muddled;  that  was 
when  I dropped  off  in  a half  - slumber.  In  these  few  odd 
moments  I imagined  myself  resting  again  on  the  green 
meadow-grass  under  the  shade  of  the  silver  poplars.  How 
bitter  was  the  awakening  to  reality ! When  I came  to  my- 
self I fancied  I was  lying  in  my  coffin.  The  funeral  proces- 
sion had  reached  the  churchyard ; the  funeral  bells  had 
ceased  their  lugubrious  tolling ; the  graves  were  almost 
ready;  the  next  sand-storm  would  shovel  them  up  level  with 
sand.  Who  among  us  would  be  the  first  to  die  ? W ho 
would  be  the  unhappy  wretch  that  should  die  last  — whose 
lungs  would  be  filled  with  the  pestilential  stench  from  the 
corpses  of  his  comrades.^  God  grant  the  end  may  come 
quickly — that  I may  not  be  overlong  tortured  with  this  fear- 
ful bodily  torment — this  fearful  mental  anguish  ! 


56o 


THROUGH  ASIA 


The  hours  followed  one  after  another  as  slowly  as  dying 
camels  in  a desert- wrecked  caravan.  I kept  looking  at  my 
watch  ; every  interval  between  looking  seemed  like  an  eter- 
nity. But  stay — what  was  that  ? My  body  was  bathed  in  a 
sudden  coolness,  so  refreshing,  so  comforting!  The  tent- 
flap  was  rolled  up.  It  was  noon.  Yes,  a faint  breeze  was 
flitting  across  the  overheated  sand-dunes.  But  faint  though 
it  was,  it  was  strong  enough  for  my  sensitive  skin  to  feel  it. 
It  continued  to  grow  stronger  and  stronger,  until,  about 
three  o’clock,  it  became  so  fresh  that  I was  obliged  to  draw 
a felt  covering  over  me. 

Shortly  afterwards  something  happened  which  I can  only 
look  upon  as  a miracle.  As  the  sun  drew  nearer  and  nearer 
to  the  horizon,  so  did  my  strength  gradually  return  ; and  by 
the  time  he  rested  like  a glowing  cannon-ball  on  the  tops  of 
the  dunes  in  the  west,  I was  completely  recovered.  My  body 
had  regained  all  its  former  elasticity.  I felt  as  if  I could 
walk  for  days  and  days.  I burned  with  impatience  to  be  up 
and  doing.  I would  not  die.  The  thought  of  how  the  dear 
ones  at  home  would  miss  me  ; the  thought  of  how  they 
would  mourn  for  me;  and  how  it  would  grieve  them  if  they 
were  unable  to  send  a wreath  to  be  placed  on  my  unknown 
grave — these  were  the  thoughts  that  tormented  me  most.  I 
resolved,  therefore,  during  the  immediate  following  days  to 
strive  my  uttermost  to  keep  going  — going  — going,  to  drag 
myself  on,  creep  on  all  fours  if  I could  not  get  on  in  any 
other  way,  but  at  all  costs  to  keep  struggling  — struggling 
on  towards  the  east,  even  though  all  my  men — all  my  cara- 
van— should  long  have  given  up  and  died,  d'he  temptation 
to  just  lie  there  and  wait — for  oh,  how  delicious  it  is  to  rest 
when  you  are  dead  tired  ! You  quickly  slumber  off,  and  for- 
get all  your  pains  and  an.xieties  in  a long,  heavy  sleep,  out  of 
which  you  never  wake  again  — this  temptation  I now  put 
from  me  finally  once  and  for  all. 

At  sunset  Islam  Bai  and  Kasim  both  revived.  I told  them 
my  resolve.  They  were  both  of  the  same  mind  as  I was. 
Mohammed  Shah  still  lay  where  he  had  fallen.  Yollchi  lay 
on  his  back  in  the  shade  of  the  tent.  Both  were  delirious; 


TllH  CAMP  OF  DKATH 


561 

neither  answered  when  we  sjioke  to  them,  but  kept  on  mut- 
tering incolierently  and  confusedly  to  themselves.  After 
twilight  set  in,  Yollchi  moved;  and  as  his  senses  returned 
the  wild  animal  in  him  awoke.  He  crept  uj)  to  where  I was 
Iving,  shook  his  fist  at  me,  and  in  a discordant,  hollow, 
threatening  voice,  cried,  “Water!  water!  Give  us  water, 
sir !’’  'Fhen  he  began  to  weej),  fell  on  his  knees  before  me, 
and  in  a whining  tone  of  entreaty  begged  me  to  give  him  a 
little  water — just  a few  drops.  What  could  I say  to  him  ? I 
reminded  him  that  he  had  stolen  half  of  our  last  supply,  that 
he  had  had  more  than  the  rest  of  us,  and  had  been  the  last 
to  get  a good  drink;  consecpiently  he  ought  to  hold  out  the 
longest.  Half  choking  with  ill  - suppressed  sobs,  he  crept 
away. 

Was  there  no  means  of  imparting  moisture  to  our  bodies 
before  we  left  this  hateful  spot — even  though  it  were  only  a 
moistening  of  the  lips  and  throat.^  W’e  were  all  suffering 
incredible  agonies  of  thirst,  the  men  more  than  I.  My  eyes 
chanced  to  fall  upon  the  cock  that  still  remained  alive.  He 
was  walking  about  among  the  camels  with  all  the  gravity  of 
his  kind.  Why  not  tap  and  drink  his  blood?  One  of  the 
men  made  an  incision  in  the  animal’s  neck.  The  blood 
trickled  out  slowly  and  in  small  quantity.  It  was  not 
enough;  we  wanted  more.  Yet  another  innocent  life  must 
be  sacrificed.  But  the  men  hesitated  a long  time  before  they 
could  bring  themselves  to  slaughter  our  docile  travelling- 
companion,  the  sheep,  which  had  followed  us  through  every 
danger  with  the  fidelity  of  a dog.  But  I told  them  it  was  to 
save  our  own  lives,  which  might  be  prolonged  a little  if  we 
drank  the  sheep’s  blood. 

At  length  Islam,  with  an.  aching  heart,  led  the  poor  creat- 
ure a little  to  one  side,  turned  its  head  towards  Mecca,  and, 
while  Kasim  tied  a rope  round  its  legs,  drew  his  knife,  and 
with  one  sweeping  cut  severed  the  arteries  of  the  neck.  The 
blood  poured  out  in  a thick  reddish-brown  stream,  and  was 
caught  in  a pail,  where  it  almost  immediately  coagulated. 
It  was  still  warm  when  we  fell  upon  it  with  spoons  and  knife- 
blades.  We  tasted  cautiously  at  first ; it  was  repulsive.  A 
1.-36 


562 


THROUGH  ASIA 


sickening  odor  rose  from  the  pail.  I managed  to  get  down 
a teaspoonful  of  the  blood  ; but  could  not  persuade  myself  to 
touch  another  drop.  Even  the  men  found  it  disagreeable, 
and  offered  it  to  Yolldash.  Yolldash  licked  it,  then  went 
his  way.  We  were  sorry  afterwards  that  we  had  killed  our 
faithful  friend  to  such  little  purpose ; but  it  was  then  too 
late. 

I understood  now  how  thirst  can  make  a man  half  insane. 
Islam  and  the  other  men  gathered  a saucepanful  of  the  camels’ 
urine.  They  poured  it  into  an  iron  cup,  and  added  vinegar 
and  sugar ; then,  holding  their  noses,  swallowed  the  abomi- 
nable concoction.  They  offered  the  cup  to  me  ; but  the  mere 
smell  nauseated  me.  All  the  others  drank  it  except  Kasim. 
And  he  was  wise  to  abstain ; for  after  a while  the  other  three 
men  were  seized  with  violent  and  painful  vomiting,  which 
completely  prostrated  them. 

Gaunt  and  wild-eyed,  with  the  stamp  of  insanity  upon  him, 
Yollchi  sat  beside  the  tent,  gnawing  at  the  dripping  sheep’s 
lungs.  His  hands  were  bloody;  his  face  was  bloody;  he  was 
a horrible  sight  to  look  upon.  I and  Kasim  were  the  only 
two  who  were  fit  for  anything.  Islam  Bai  pulled  himself  to- 
gether a little,  after  getting  rid  of  his  nauseous  draught.  He 
and  I,  once  more,  for  the  last  time,  went  through  our  bag- 
gage. We  decided  to  abandon  the  greater  part  of  it.  I put 
together  in  a little  heap  such  things  as  I considered  were  in- 
dispensably necessary,  such  as  my  drawings  and  some  route- 
plottings,  specimens  of  rocks  and  of  sand,  maps,  scientific  in- 
struments, pens,  paper,  the  Bible  and  Swedish  psalm-book, 
together  with  a number  of  other  small  articles.  Islam  Bai 
likewise  picked  out  what  he  thought  indispensable,  such  as 
provisions  for  three  days  (flour,  tea,  sugar,  bread,  and  a couple 
of  cases  of  preserved  food).  I jjroposed  to  leave  behind  all 
our  Chinese  silver  money,  half  a camel-load  of  it,  amounting 
to  nearly  ^280  in  value.  I hoped  we  should  soon  discover 
water;  then  we  should  be  able  to  return  and  fetch  what  we 
were  now  putting  aside.  But  Islam  Bai  would  not  hear  of 
the  money  being  left  behind  ; and  events  proved  that  he  was 
right.  In  addition  to  the  things  already  mentioned,  Islam 


THK  CAMP  OI-  DKATIl 


563 


found  room  for  a couple  of  boxes  of  cigars  and  cigarettes, 
some  cooking  utensils,  which  we  had  brought  on  with  us 
from  camp  No.  all  our  weapons,  and  a small  suj)ply 

of  cartridges,  candles,  a lantern,  bucket,  sj^ade,  rope,  and  a 
number  of  similar  objects. 

.Among  the  things  left  behind  1 may  mention — two  heavy 
ammunition-chests,  the  tent,  some  felts,  together  with  our  last 
carpet,  several  cases  filled  with  miscellaneous  articles,  cloth, 
caps,  and  khalats,  which  I had  intended  as  presents  for  the 
native  chiefs,  several  useful  books  of  reference,  both  my  ])ho- 
tographic  cameras,  with  over  a thousand  plates,  of  which  a 
hundred  or  more  had  been  used  during  our  journey  across 
the  desert;  further,  some  saddles,  the  medicine-chest,  drawing 
materials,  unused  sketch-books,  all  my  clothes,  winter  boots, 
winter  caps,  gloves,  etc. 

We  packed  up  the  things  we  were  not  taking  with  us  in 
some  eight  packing-cases  inside  the  tent,  the  tent-canvas  be- 
ing turned  in  underneath  them,  so  that  they  might  help  to 
hold  up  the  teut  in  stormy  weather.  We  counted  ujDon  the 
white  tent  - canvas,  which  was  visible  a long  way  off,  more 
especially  as  we  pitched  it  on  the  top  of  a sand-hill,  serving 
as  a sign-post  if  we  should  come  back  in  quest  of  the  goods. 
I dressed  myself  entirely  in  white,  from  top  to  toe.  If  I 
was  doomed  to  die  in  the  sand,  I wanted  to  be  properly 
attired;  I wanted  my  burial  clothes  to  be  both  white  and 
clean. 

The  things  we  deemed  it  indispensable  to  take  with  us 
were  packed  in  five  Sart  kiirchins,  or  double  wallets  made  of 
sail-cloth.  We  stripped  the  camels  of  their  pack-saddles,  and 
put  these  on  their  backs  instead.  One  camel  carried  the  heavy 
things,  such  as  the  rifies,  spades,  and  so  forth,  all  wrapped  up 
together  in  a kighiz  or  felt  carpet. 

Before  starting,  we  opened  a couple  of  boxes  of  preserved 
food ; but  although  the  contents  were  moist,  we  experienced 
the  utmost  difficulty  in  getting  them  down,  our  throats  were 
so  parched. 

The  camels  had  lain  all  day  in  precisely  the  same  places 
where  they  fell  in  the  morning.  Their  labored  breathing  was 


564 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  only  sound  that  broke  the  deathly  silence.  The  unhappy 
creatures  were  dying,  but  wore  an  air  of  indifference  and 
resignation.  Their  big  baggy  throats  were  shrivelled  up  and 
of  a whitish-blue  color.  We  had  great  difficulty  in  persuad- 
ing them  to  get  up. 


CHAFTKR  XLVI 


'r  HE  CRISIS  C O M E S 

At  seven  o’clock  that  evening  the  death-bells  rang  for  the 
last  time.  In  order  t(i  husband  my  strength,  I rode  the  white 
camel,  it  being  the  freshest,  Islam  Hai,  who  had  s(|uandered 
his  strength  over  the  abominable  drauirht  he  had  swallowed, 
led  the  caravan  at  a miserably  slow  jjace.  Kasim  followed  in 
the  rear,  and  kept  urging  the  camels  on.  Thus  we  crawled 
away  from  the  Camp  of  Death,  steering  east,  ever  east  to 
where  the  Khotan-daria  rolled  on  through  its  fresh  green 
woods. 

As  we  left  the  unhallowed  spot,  Vollchi  crept  inside  the 
tent  and  took  possession  of  my  bed,  still  gnawing  away  at 
the  sheep's  lungs,  greedily,  voraciously  draining  them  of  ev- 
ery drop  of  moisture.  Old  Mohammed  Shah  still  lay  in  the 
same  place  where  he  fell.  Before  we  left  I went  to  him, 
called  him  by  his  name,  and  placed  my  hand  on  his  forehead. 
He  glared  at  me,  his  eyes  ashy-gray  and  wide  open,  and  with 
a confused  look  in  them;  but  an  expression  of  unshaken 
calmness,  of  quiet  rapture  spread  over  his  face,  as  though  he 
expected  the  next  moment  to  enter  the  pleasure-gardens  of 
Paradise,  and  partake  of  its  innumerable  joys.  Possibly  for 
several  days  past  he  had  seen  floating  before  his  dazed  vision 
glimpses  of  Bihesht,  about  whose  voluptuous  delights  he  had 
read  so  many  times  in  the  Koran ; and  no  doubt  the  thought 
of  the  joys  to  come  comforted  his  spirit  in  the  bitter  agonies 
of  shaking  itself  free  from  his  body.  No  doubt  he  imagined 
his  heavy  life’s  work  was  done  and  he  had  lain  down  to  rest, 
and  would  never  more  toil  and  drudge  in  attending  upon 
camels,  never  more  wear  out  his  old  age  in  tramping  with 
caravans  from  one  city  to  another  through  the  sand-wastes  of 


566 


THROUGH  ASIA 


East  Turkestan.  He  looked  terribly  shrivelled  up  and  wasted 
away,  shrunk  to  a mummy-like  old  man.  His  copper-brown 
face  was  the  only  part  of  him  that  still  wore  any  look  of  fresh- 
ness. His  breathing  came  very  slowly  and  irregularly,  and 
every  now  and  again  sighs  mingled  with  the  death  - ruckle 
which  broke  over  his  lips.  Again  I stroked  his  dry,  wizened 
brow,  placed  his  head  in  a more  comfortable  position,  and 
said,  in  as  calm  a tone  as  my  emotion  would  allow  me,  that 
we  were  going  to  hurry  on  ahead  and  should  soon  find  water. 
We  would  fill  the  pitchers  and  hasten  back  to  him.  I bade 
him  lie  where  he  was  till  his  strength  returned  ; then  he  might 
come  along  our  trail  to  meet  us,  so  as  to  shorten  the  distance 
we  should  have  to  travel  back.  He  tried  to  lift  one  hand, 
mumbling  something  of  which  the  only  word  I caught  was 
“ Allah.”  I understood  only  too  well — and  so,  perhaps,  did  he 
— that  we  should  never  meet  again.  He  had  not  many  hours 
left  to  live.  His  eyes  were  dim  and  glazed  ; his  slumber  would 
pass  gradually  over  into  the  deep  sleep  of  death.  He  was  en- 
tering upon  his  eternal  rest,  environed  by  the  mighty  silence, 
and  bv  the  ever-shifting  sand-dunes  moving  on  towards  their 
mysterious  goal. 

With  my  heart  bleeding  and  lacerated  by  self-reproaches  at 
having  this  life  upon  my  conscience,  I dragged  myself  away 
from  the  dying  man. 

I also  took  farewell  of  Yollchi,  and  exhorted  him  to  follow 
on  along  the  trail  of  the  caravan.  That  was  the  only  way  he 
could  save  his  life.  I did  not  upbraid  him  for  leading  us 
astray;  nor  did  I reproach  him  with  having  deceived  us  when 
he  said  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  desert,  and  within 
four  days  would  bring  us  to  a place  where  we  could  get  water 
by  digging  for  it.  What  good  would  it  have  done  if  I had 
rebuked  him  for  jjutting  only  a four  days’  supply  of  water  in 
the  tanks  instead  of  a ten  days’  supjily  ? It  would  only  have 
embittered  the  man’s  last  moments ; and  I could  not  do  that, 
I was  so  terribly  sorry  for  him. 

The  last  six  hens  made  a tragic-comic  picture  as,  cackling 
contentedly  to  themselves,  they  feasted  with  every  mark  of 
satisfaction  upon  the  carcass  of  the  dead  sheep.  No  doubt 


THK  CRISIS  COMHS  567 

they  had  not  yet  missed  the  cock,  but  they  would  miss  him 
afterwards. 

Why  did  we  not  kill  the  poor  things  Well,  why  did  we 
not,  with  more  reason,  kill  the  two  unhappy  dying  men,  and 
so  release  them  out  of  their  misery?  These  are  questions 
which  cannot  be  answered  at  a distance.  When  death  stands 
open-mouthed  waiting  for  you,  you  grow  less  sensitive  to 
other  people’s  sufferings.  \\T  were  all  doomed.  It  was 
only  a question  of  hours  with  us  all,  and  it  seemed  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  that  the  oldest  and  weakest  should 
die  first.  And  as  each  fresh  member  of  the  caravan  col- 
lapsed and  sank  to  the  ground,  it  did  not  in  the  least  sur- 
prise us.  We  merely  asked  ourselves,  “Whose  turn  is  it 
next?”  To  kill  a human  being,  even  though  he  is  struggling 
in  the  agonies  of  death,  is  murder,  and  always  must  be.  We 
did  not  abandon  the  camels  without  some  slight  hope  of  be- 
ing able  to  return  to  them  with  water  and  save  them.  Hut 
the  men  could  not  jiossibly  liv^e  so  long.  They  were,  in  fact, 
virtually  dead  already.  Otherwise,  so  long  as  there  was  the 
smallest  chance  of  saving  them,  I should  not,  I could  not, 
have  left  them  behind.  To  have  stayed  beside  them  until 
the  end  came  would  have  entailed  the  needless  sacrifice  of 
our  own  lives.  We  could  do  nothing  to  assuage  their  suffer- 
ings, for  of  water — the  one  thing  they  needed — the  one  thing 
that  might  possibly  have  saved  their  lives — we  had  none — 
absolutely  not  one  drop.  Nor  could  we  have  given  them  any 
comfort  in  the  last  dread  moments.  They  were  delirious — 
completely  unconscious  ; their  minds  were  dead  already.  But 
why  did  we  not  take  them  on  with  us  ? For  the  sufficient 
reason  that  it  was  physically  impossible.  They  were  much 
too  far  gone  to  walk,  and  the  camels  were  much  too  weak  to 
have  carried  them.  Besides,  even  supposing  the  camels  had 
been  strong  enough  to  carry  them,  to  have  taken  dead  men 
with  us  would,  under  the  circumstances  in  which  we  were 
then  situated,  have  been  tantamount  to  an  act  of  suicidal 
folly — an  outrageous  madness.  Our  own  strength  was  seri- 
ously undermined.  Our  own  lives  depended  upon  a success- 
ful race  against  fast-ebbing  energy  and  fast-running  time,  and 


568 


THROUGH  ASIA 


we  did  not  know  how  far  we  might  have  to  go  before  we 
reached  water — the  precious  life-r^torer.  We  were  stripping 
ourselves  of  everything  except  the  barest  indispensable  neces- 
saries in  order  to  husband  our  strength,  to  facilitate  our  prog- 
ress, to  economize  time.  To  have  burdened  ourselves,  there- 
fore, with  two  helpless,  hopeless  sufferers,  for  whom  we  were 
utterly  incapable  of  doing  the  least  thing  further,  would  only 
have  been  to  imperil  our  own  lives  for  absolutely  no  purpose. 
All  the  same  it  wrung  my  heart  to  have  to  leave  the  unhappy 
men  behind  in  the  desert.  My  conscience  was  loud  in  its 
reproaches.  I suffered  intense  agony  of  mind.  Yet  what 
could  I do  The  bitterness  of  that  hour — it  was  more  than 
I can  describe.  It  is  known  to  God  alone! 

As  for  the  hens,  I had  a presentiment  that  they  ought  not 
to  be  killed,  since  they  might  be  useful,  if  we  did  come  back 
to  fetch  the  tent ; besides,  with  the  carcass  of  the  sheep  to 
feed  upon  they  would  be  able  to  preserve  their  lives  for  a long 
time.  In  this  I was  not  wrong,  as  was  proved  in  the  end  of 
May,  1896,  more  than  a year  later.  But  I must  not  anticipate 
the  natural  course  of  events. 

Meanwhile  we  marched  on  slowly,  Yolldash  still  faithfully 
following  us,  although  as  lean  as  a skeleton.  The  camels’ 
bells  tolled  a mournful  peal  for  the  dying  veterans  of  the 
caravan.  From  the  top  of  the  first  dune  we  surmounted  I 
turned  and  sent  back  a sigh  over  the  Camp  of  Death,  where 
my  two  attendants  were  breathing  their  last.  The  tent  stood 
out  like  a sharply  cut  black  triangle  against  the  lighter-tinted 
western  sky.  Then  I went  down  the  dune,  and  it  vanished 
from  my  sight.  I experienced  a feeling  of  relief  when  it  was 
no  longer  visible.  I never  looked  back  again. 

Before  us  were  the  black  night  and  the  treacherous  ocean 
of  sand.  But  I was  buoyed  up  by  an  abounding  energy  and 
the  joy  of  life.  I luould  not  die  in  the  desert.  I was  too 
young.  I had  too  much  to  lose.  Life  had  still  much  to  give 
me.  Never  before  had  I valued  it  as  I did  now.  My  travels 
in  Asia  should  not  end  in  that  j)lace.  I must  traverse  the 
continent  from  side  to  side.  There  were  numerous  problems 
I wanted  to  solve  before  I reached  my  far -distant  goal — 


TllH  CRISIS  COMICS 


569 


Pekinir.  Never  before  had  I been  so  full  of  overflowinu: 
gladness,  never  before  had  my  vital  spirits  been  so  buoyant 
with  energy.  I was  determined  I would  get  through,  even 
thoinjfh  I should  crawl  it  like  a worm  through  the  sand. 

Our  pace  was  slow,  desperately  slow.  Nevertheless  we 
kept  scrambling  over  one  high  dune  after  another.  At 
lenuth  another  of  the  camels  fell.  1 le  at  once  stretched  out 
his  legs  and  neck,  jjrepared  to  die.  We  transferred  his  load 
to  the  back  of  /\k-tuya,  the  white  camel,  which  seemed  to  be 
the  strongest.  W'e  released  the  dying  animal  from  the  rope 
that  bound  him  to  the  camel  immediately  in  front  of  him,  let 
him  keej)  his  ill-omened  bell,  and  left  him  to  his  fate  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night.  With  the  other  four  camels  we 
steered  our  way  as  well  as  we  could  see  towards  the  next 
sand-dune. 

The  night  was  pitch-dark.  The  stars  twinkled  brightly 
through  the  pure  atmosphere,  but  their  light  was  too  faint 
to  enable  us  to  judge  of  the  inequalities  of  the  ground.  W'e 
were  stopped  by  every  sand-dune  we  came  to.  For  a few 
minutes  we  had  a level  slope,  which  we  got  down  easily 
enough ; then  all  of  a sudden  a wall  of  sand  would  rise  uj) 
immediately  in  front  of  us.  The  camels’  strength  was  ex- 
hausted. Even  the  cool  night  air  was  incapable  of  revivify- 
ing them.  They  kept  stopping  incessantly.  First  one  hung 
back,  then  another.  Somehow  the  rope  that  bound  them 
toQ:ether  would  get  loose,  and  one  or  two  of  the  camels  would 
lag  behind,  and  we  would  go  on  some  distance  before  we 
became  aware  of  our  loss.  Wdien  we  did  perceive  it  we  had 
to  halt  and  turn  back  and  fetch  them. 

Islam  Bai  was  completely  done  up.  He  writhed  in  con- 
tinual pain,  and  was  seized  with  repeated  vomitings  of  an 
extremely  violent  and  convulsive  character;  and,  as  his 
stomach  was  empty,  they  rapidly  drained  away  what  little 
strength  he  had  left.  Poor  fellow ! he  suffered  fearfully, 
writhed  on  the  ground,  and  retched  to  such  an  extent  that  I 
thought  he  would  bring  up  his  very  intestines. 

Thus  like  worms  we  crawled  along  through  the  darkness. 
But  I saw  clearly  we  could  not  go  on  in  that  way,  stumbling 


570 


THROUGH  ASIA 


blindly  over  the  dunes  in  that  happy-go-lucky  fashion.  I got 
down  off  my  camel,  lighted  a lantern,  and  went  on  ahead  to 
find  out  the  easiest  passages  between  the  gigantic  billows  of 
the  sandy  ocean.  I carried  my  compass  in  my  hand  and 
steered  due  east.  The  lantern  cast  a faint  glimmer  along 
the  steep  dune-sides.  But  again  and  again  I was  obliged  to 
stop  and  wait  for  the  rest  of  the  caravan.  At  about  eleven 
o’clock  I no  longer  heard  the  distant  tinkle  of  the  camel- 
bell — there  was  but  one  left  now.  The  dense  blackness  of 
the  night  and  a deathly  silence  environed  me  on  every  side. 
I put  the  lantern  on  the  top  of  a dune,  and,  lying  down  on 
the  sand,  tried  to  sleep.  But  not  a wink  could  I get.  I sat 
up  and  listened,  holding  my  breath,  hoping  I might  hear 
some  faint,  far-off  sound.  I looked  eagerly  towards  the 
east  to  see  if  I could  not  catch  a glimpse  of  a shepherd’s 
fire,  marking  the  forest  beside  the  Khotan-daria.  But  no ; 
there  was  no  such  beacon  of  hope.  All  was  dark,  silent 
as  the  grave.  Nothing  — nothing  at  all  betrayed  the  least 
semblance  of  life.  It  was  so  still  I could  plainly  hear  my 
own  heart  beating. 

At  length  I caught  the  sound  of  the  last  of  the  camels’  bells. 
It  sounded  at  longer  and  longer  intervals;  but  it  approached 
gradually  nearer.  When  they  reached  the  top  of  the  dune 
on  which  I sat,  Islam  Bai  staggered  up  to  the  lantern,  fell 
heavily  to  the  ground,  and  gasped  out  that  he  could  not  take 
another  step.  His  strength  was  totally  exhausted. 

Seeing  that  the  last  act  of  our  tragic  desert  journey  was 
now  about  to  be  played,  and  that  all  would  soon  be  over,  I 
determined  to  give  up  everything  and  hasten  on  eastward  as 
far  as  my  strength  would  carry  me.  In  a scarcely  audible 
voice  Islam  whispered  that  he  could  not  go  with  me.  He 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  remain  with  the  camels,  and  said  he 
would  die  where  he  lay.  I encouraged  him,  telling  him  I was 
sure  his  strength  would  return  after  he  had  rested  an  hour  or 
two  in  the  cool  night-air;  and  when  it  did  I solemnly  fow- 
7nanded  him  to  leave  the  camels  and  their  loads — everything — 
and  follow  on  in  my  footsteps.  To  this  he  made  no  answer, 
but  lay  on  his  back,  with  his  mouth  and  eyes  wide  open. 


ABANDONING  THE  WRECK  OF  OUR  CARAVAN 


THE  CRISIS  COMES 


573 


Then  I bade  him  farewell  and  left  him,  fully  believing  that 
he  had  but  a short  time  to  live. 

Kasim  was  still  fairly  brisk.  Like  me,  he  had  had  the  good 
sense  to  abstain  from  the  abominable  draught  at  the  Camp  of 
Death.  The  only  things  I took  with  me  were  the  two  chro- 
nometers, a bell,  the  compass,  a penknife,  a pencil  and  a piece 
of  paper,  a box  of  matches,  a pocket-handkerchief,  a box  of 
tinned  lobstCT's,  a round  tin  box  full  of  chocolate,  and,  more 
by  accident  than  by  design,  half  a score  of  cigarettes.  Kasim 
carried  the  spade,  bucket,  and  rope,  in  case  we  should  have 
to  dig  a well.  Inside  the  bucket  he  put  the  sheep’s  fat  tail, 
two  or  three  pieces  of  bread,  and  a lump  of  coagulated  sheep’s 
blood.  But  in  the  hurry  he  forgot  to  take  his  caj),  and,  when 
morning  came,  had  to  borrow  my  handkerchief,  which  he 
wound  round  his  head  to  protect  himself  against  sunstroke. 

Hut  we  were  unable  to  derive  much  advantage  from  our 
wretched  j^rovisions,  because  our  throats  and  their  mucous 
membranes  were  parched  up,  as  dry  as  the  skin  on  our  hands 
and  faces,  so  that  it  was  impossible  to  swallow.  If  we  tried 
to  get  anything  down,  it  stuck  fast  in  our  throats.  We  felt 
as  if  we  were  being  suffocated  and  made  haste  to  put  it  out. 
Hut  a man  who  is  tormented  by  the  agonies  of  thirst  gradu- 
ally loses  all  sense  of  hunger.  For  the  first  few  days  the 
tortures  of  thirst  are  so  poignant  that  you  are  on  the  brink 
of  losing  your  senses.  Hut  when  your  skin  ceases  to  per- 
spire, or  when  your  perspiration  becomes  imperceptible  in 
consequence  of  the  blood  flowing  continually  thicker  and 
slower  through  your  veins,  a rapidly  increasing  weakness 
takes  possession  of  you  and  quickly  brings  matters  to  a 
crisis. 

It  was  e.xactly  midnight  when  we  abandoned  the  wreckage 
of  our  caravan,  which  onl)'  a few  days  before  had  made  such 
a brave  show.  We  were  literally  shipwrecked,  and  had  to 
leave  behind  us  our  “ ships  of  the  desert  ” a prey  to  the  mer- 
ciless ocean  of  sand.  We  set  out  to  seek  the  “ coast  ” ; but 
knew  not  how  far  we  should  have  to  travel  over  those  rolling 
billows  of  sand  before  we  reached  it. 

The  four  camels  that  now  remained  lay  silent,  resigned, 


574 


THROUGH  ASIA 


patient  as  sacrificial  lambs.  They  breathed  heavily  and  with 
difficulty,  and  their  long  necks  were  stretched  out  flat  on  the 
surface  of  the  dune.  Islam  Bai  did  not  glance  up  when  we 
left  him  ; but  Yolldash  sent  a wondering  look  after  us.  No 
doubt  he  believed  that  we  should  soon  come  back  again,  per- 
haps with  water;  for  the  caravan  was  staying  behind,  and  we 
never  left  it  very  far.  I never  saw  the  faithful  creature  again, 
and  I missed  him  greatly. 

I placed  the  lighted  lantern  close  behind  Islam,  and  left  it 
there.  For  a little  while  it  served  us  as  a sort  of  light-house, 
telling  us  how’  far  we  were  advancing  away  from  it,  and  also 
guiding  us  in  our  course  towards  the  east.  But  its  pale  rays 
speedily  became  lost  behind  the  sand  - dunes,  and  we  were 
swallowed  up  in  the  night. 


chapti:r  xlvii 


A DKSPEKAI'K  MAR('H 

Mav  2D.  After  leaving  the  cleatli-cloomecl  caravan  behind, 
I felt  I was  freer  to  choose  my  own  course.  .My  only  con- 
cern now  was  to  keep  jjushing  on,  and  to  steer  as  straight  a 
line  as  possible  to  the  east,  so  as  to  shorten  the  road  all  I 
could.  W’e  marched  on  at  a brisk  pace  for  a good  two  hours 
without  stopping:  the  sand  continuing  all  the  time  every  bit 
as  high  and  heavv  as  it  had  been  before.  At  the  end  of  the 
two  hours  we  both  became  so  sleepy  that  we  were  forced  to 
lie  down  for  a while.  Hut  we  were  only  lightly  dressed. 
Kasim  wore  nothing  e.xcept  a simple  jacket,  his  baggy  trou- 
sers, and  boots.  I had  on  woollen  underclothing,  a thin  suit 
of  white  cotton,  a white  Russian  cap  with  a peak  to  it,  and 
stiff  leather  top-boots.  It  was  not  long,  therefore,  before  the 
chilly  night  air  woke  us  up.  W e walked  on  smartly  till  we 
got  warm.  Then  the  desire  to  sleep  once  more  seized  us, 
and  this  time  with  such  overpowering  force  that  we  did  sleep. 
At  four  o’clock  the  nipping  air  woke  us  up  again,  for  it  was 
just  about  dawn,  and  I felt  chilled  to  the  bone.  W^e  got  up 
and  walked  on  for  five  hours  without  stopping — that  is,  till 
nine  o’clock.  Then,  being  tired,  we  gave  ourselves  an  hour’s 
rest. 

While  we  were  resting  a crisp  westerly  breeze  sprang  up 
and  cooled  the  air,  so  that  we  were  able  to  go  on  a little  way 
farther.  But  by  half-past  eleven  the  heat  grew'  so  oppressive 
that  everything  turned  black  before  our  eyes,  and  we  sank 
down  on  a dune  utterly  spent.  There,  on  a steep  slope  fac- 
ing north,  where  the  sand  was  not  yet  heated  by  the  sun,  we 
rested  the  remainder  of  the  day.  Kasim  dug  out  a hole  im- 
mediately under  the  crest  of  the  dune,  going  down  till  he 


576 


THROUGH  ASIA 


came  to  the  layers  of  sand  that  were  still  cool  from  the  night- 
air.  We  took  off  every  stitch  of  clothing  and  buried  our- 
selves up  to  the  neck  in  the  sand.  Then,  putting  up  the 
spade  and  hanging  our  clothes  over  it,  we  made  a sort  of 
screen  to  shelter  our  heads  from  the  sun.  And  so  we  lay  all 
day  long,  cool  and  comfortable;  sometimes,  indeed,  we  were 
actually  cold.  But  the  sand  gradually  grew  warm  from  the 
heat  of  our  bodies  and  from  the  sun-saturated  atmosphere. 
Then  we  crept  out  of  our  hole,  and  Kasim  dug  a fresh  one, 
heaping  the  cool  sand  all  over  me.  How  delicious  it  was! 
like  a cold  douche  in  the  burning  sunshine.  We  left  noth- 
ing but  our  heads  sticking  out,  and  these  we  protected  to 
some  extent  against  sunstroke.  One  midge  and  two  flies 
kept  us  company.  But  then  they  might  have  been  blown 
by  the  wind  from  a great  distance! 

Thus  we  lay  buried  alive  in  the  eternal  sand,  uttering 
never  a word,  and  yet  not  being  able  to  sleep.  We  did  not 
move  until  six  o’clock  in  the  evening;  then  we  got  out  of 
our  sand-bath,  dressed,  and  continued  our  journey  at  a slow 
and  heavy  pace,  for  in  all  probability  the  dry  sand-bath  had 
weakened  us.  Nevertheless  we  stuck  to  it  doggedly,  although 
we  had  innumerable  stoppages,  pushing  on  eastward,  ever 
eastward,  until  one  o’clock  next  morning.  Then,  thoroughly 
wearied  out,  we  lay  down  and  went  to  sleep  on  the  top  of  a 
dune. 

May  3d.  After  a refreshing  sleep  we  woke  up  at  half-past 
four  in  the  morning.  We  always  travelled  best  just  before 
sunrise,  because,  the  air  being  then  fresh,  we  were  able  to  go 
long  distances  without  stopping.  That  day  our  dying  hopes 
once  more  revived,  and  our  courage  was  rekindled.  All  of  a 
sudden  Kasim  stopped  short,  gripped  me  by  the  shoulder, 
and  with  wildly  staring  eyes  pointed  towards  the  east,  with- 
out uttering  a word.  I looked  and  looked  in  the  direction 
towards  which  he  pointed,  but  could  see  nothing  unusual. 
But  Kasim’s  eagle  eye  had  discovered  on  the  verge  of  the 
horizon  the  green  foliage  of  a tamarisk — the  beacon  upon 
which  all  our  hopes  of  safety  were  now  concentrated.  W’e 
steered  our  course  straight  for  the  solitary  tree,  taking  the 


THE  FIRST  TAMARISK 


i 


A I)I<:SPKR\T1<:  MARCH 


579 


utmost  precautions  not  to  lose  its  bearini^s.  Every  time  we 
clipped  into  the  hollow  between  two  sand-dunes  we,  of  course, 
lost  sioht  of  it;  but,  immediately  we  climbed  the  next  dune, 
there  it  was  still  before  us,  and  we  were  approaching  nearer 
and  nearer  to  it!  At  length  we  reached  it.  Our  first  act 
was  to  thank  (iocl  for  bringing  us  so  far  safe. 

W’e  revelled  in  the  fresh  greenness  of  the  tree,  and,  like 
animals,  chewed  away  at  its  sappy  leaves.  It  was  really  alive. 
Its  roots  evidently  went  down  to  the  water  stratum;  we 
were  now  within  reasonable  distance  of  ojien  water.  I'he 
tamarisk  shot  up  from  the  top  of  a sand-dune,  and  there  was 
not  a yard  of  flat,  hard  ground  to  be  seen  anywhere  near  it. 
A strange  existence  these  tamarisks  {Ta))i(xrix  elongata)  lead. 
'I'heir  branches  and  tough,  elastic  stems,  seldom  exceeding 
se\en  feet  in  height,  are  bathed  in  burning  sunshine;  while 
their  roots  penetrate  to  an  almost  incredible  depth,  and,  like 
siphons,  suck  up  nourishment  from  the  subterranean  sujjjilies 
of  moisture.  In  fact,  that  solitary  tree  reminded  me  of  a 
water-lily  swimming,  as  it  were,  on  the  billowy  surface  of  the 
desert  ocean.  Merely  to  look  at  the  tamarisk  was  a pleasure, 
and  to  stretch  our  parched  and  weary  limbs  beneath  its 
sparse  shade  for  a little  was  rapture  indeed.  It  was  the 
olive-branch,  telling  us  that  there  was  an  end  to  the  sandy 
ocean,  after  all  — the  outermost  islet  of  the  Skiirgard,*  or 
skerry  fence,  proclaiming  to  the  shipwrecked  mariners  the 
near  proximity  of  the  coast.  I gathered  a handful  of  leaves, 
which  were  not  unlike  the  needles  of  the  pine,  and  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  the  sweet,  fresh  scent  they  gave  off.  My 
hopes  now  rose  higher  than  they  were  before,  and  with  our 
courage  renewed  we  again  pushed  on  towards  the  east. 

By  this  the  dunes  had  decreased  in  height,  reaching  not 
much  above  thirty  feet.  In  one  of  the  hollows  we  came 
across  two  small,  scanty  patches  of  kamish,  or  reeds  {Lasia- 
grostes  splendeus) ; we  plucked  the  wiry  stalks  and  chewed 
them.  At  half-past  nine  we  came  to  another  tamarisk,  and 
saw  several  more  farther  on.  But  our  energy  was  paralyzed 


* The  belt  of  islands  which  fringes  the  eastern  coast  of  Sweden. 


58o 


THROUGH  ASIA 


by  the  intense  heat,  and  we  dropped  exhausted  in  the  shade 
of  the  bush,  and,  as  we  had  done  the  day  before,  dug  a hole 
in  the  sand  and  buried  ourselves  in  it  naked. 

For  nine  mortal  hours  we  lay  as  if  dead.  Kasim  hardly 
had  strength  enough  to  cover  me  with  fresh  sand.  At  seven 
o’clock  we  started  again  in  the  twilight,  at  first  with  totter- 
ing limbs.  After  walking  for  three  hours  Kasim  stopped 
short  again,  exclaiming  “Tograk!”  (poplar).  I saw  some- 
thing dark  looming  up  two  or  three  dunes  ahead;  and,  sure 
enough,  he  was  right.  It  was  three  fine  poplar  - trees,  with 
their  leaves  full  of  sap.  But  the  leaves  were  so  bitter  that 
we  could  not  chew  them  ; we  rubbed  our  skin  instead  until 
it  became  moist. 

W’e  were  so  completely  spent  that  we  lay  for  a couple  of 
hours  utterly  incapable  of  making  a closer  examination  of 
the  locality.  We  began  to  dig  a well  close  to  the  tree-roots. 
But  we  had  to  stop.  We  literally  had  not  strength  enough 
to  do  it;  the  spade  kept  turning  in  our  hands  and  falling  out 
of  them.  The  sand  was  scarcely  damp  at  all ; the  water  was 
clearly  a long  way  down.  Nevertheless,  we  hung  about  the 
jjlace  a little  while,  and  tried  to  scratch  the  sand  away  with 
our  hands;  but  we  soon  found  we  could  not  do  much  that 
way,  and  gave  uj)  the  idea  of  digging  a well. 

Our  next  plan  was  to  gather  together  in  a heap  all  the  dry 
branches  we  could  find  round  about  the  poplars  and  set  fire 
to  them,  making  a huge  flaming  l)onfire,  which  flung  its  ruddy 
glare  a long  way  across  the  dunes.  Their  tops,  catching  the 
murkv  gleam,  looked  like  ghosts  stalking.out  of  the  darkness. 
Our  object  in  making  the  bonfire  was  jjartly  to  give  a signal 
to  Islam  Bai,  supposing  he  was  still  alive,  which,  however, 
I very  seriously  doubted,  and  partly  to  give  the  alarm  to 
anybody  who  might  chaiice  to  be  travelling  from  Khotan 
to  Ak-su,  by  the  road  that  runs  down  the  left  side  of  the 
Khotan-daria. 

Our  pur[)ose  being  a good  one,  we  kept  up  the  fire  with 
feverish  energy  for  fully  two  hours.  Then  we  left  it  to  die 
out  of  its  own  accord.  Kasim  fried  a slice  of  the  sheep’s 
tail,  and  after  very  great  exertions  managed  to  swallow  it. 


A DHSPHRATIC  MARCH 


I had  but  little  better  fortune  with  the  lobsters.  1 he  rest  of 
our  “ provisions  ” we  left  behind  us,  not  wishing  to  burden 
ourselves  unnecessarily.  ICit  I took  the  empty  chocolate  tin 
with  me.  1 was  gcnng  to  drink  the  water  of  the  Khotan- 
daria  out  of  it ! .After  that  we  had  a good  sleep  beside  the 
fire,  which  prevented  us  from  feeling  the  chilliness  of  the 
night. 

May  4th.  W'e  began  to  move  at  three  o’clock  in  the 
mornino:,  and  at  four  o’clock  made  a start.  'Fhen,  with  our 
strength  drooping  at  every  step  and  our  legs  tottering  under 
us,  and  with  innumerable  halts,  we  stumbled  on  till  nine 
o’clock,  riien  the  desert  ocean  once  more  opened  its  rav'en- 
ous  jaws  before  us,  and  appeared  to  be  waiting  with  mali- 
cious joy  the  fatal  moment  when  it  should  devour  us.  .\fter 
the  three  po|)lars  we  saw  no  more,  and  the  tamarisks  were 
so  few  and  far  between  that  we  could  scarcely  see  from  one 
to  the  other.  Our  courage  began  to  sink  ; we  began  to  be 
afraid  it  was  merely  a depressioii  we  had  j^assed,  and  that  we 
should  soon  be  engulfed  again  in  the  everlasting  sea  of  sand. 
.At  nine  o’clock  we  fell  helpless  at  the  foot  of  a tamarisk, 
and  there  we  lay,  e.xposed  to  the  blazing  sun,  for  ten  mortal 
hours. 

Kasim  was  sinking  fast.  Me  was  incapable  of  digging  a 
hole  in  the  sand  to  lie  in  ; and  as  he  was  also  unable  to  cover 
me  with  cool  sand,  I suffered  terribly  from  the  heat.  All 
day  long  we  never  spoke  a word.  Indeed,  what  was  there 
we  could  talk  about  ? Our  thoughts  were  the  same,  our  ap- 
prehensions the  same.  The  fact  is,  we  really  could  not  talk  ; 
we  could  only  whisper  or  hiss  out  our  words. 

Where  now  were  the  sand-storms  which  a week  ago  inter- 
posed such  a perfect  screen  between  us  and  the  sun  ? We 
looked  in  vain  for  the  black  cloud  which  alone  could  shield 
us  from  the  coppery  glow.  Sun  and  desert  had  conspired 
together  for  our  destruction. 

l^ut  ev^en  that  long,  weary  day  had  an  end ; the  sun  once 
more  dipped  down  towards  the  west.  By  a desperate  effort  I 
roused  myself,  shook  the  sand  off  my  body,  which  looked  as 
if  it  were  encased  in  tight-fitting  parchment  of  a reddish- 


5«2 


THROUGH  ASIA 


brown  color.  I dressed  myself,  and  called  upon  Kasim  to 
come  with  me.  He  gasped,  in  reply,  that  he  was  unable  to 
go  any  farther,  and  with  a gesture  of  despair  gave  me  to  un- 
derstand that  he  considered  all  was  lost. 

1 went  on  alone,  alone  with  the  night  and  the  everlasting 
sand.  It  was  still  as  the  q-rave,  and  the  shadows  seemed  to 
me  to  be  darker  than  usual.  Occasionally  I rested  on  the 
dunes.  Then  it  was  I realized  how  lonely  I was,  alone  with 
my  conscience  and  the  stars  of  heaven,  which  shone  as  brill- 
iantly as  electric  lamps.  They  alone  kept  me  company ; 
they  were  the  only  things  I saw  and  knew;  and  they  inspired 
in  me  the  conviction  that  it  was  not  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death  I was  walking  through.  The  air  was  perfectly  still 
and  cold;  I could  have  heard  the  faintest  sound  a long  way 
off.  I placed  my  ear  close  down  upon  the  sand  and  listened  ; 
but  I heard  nothing  except  the  ticking  of  the  chronometers 
and  the  faint  and  sluggish  beating  of  my  own  heart.  There 
was  not  a sound  to  indicate  there  was  any  other  living  creat- 
ure throughout  all  the  wide  universe  of  space. 

I lit  my  last  cigarette.  The  others  we  had  smoked  the  day 
before,  and  so  long  as  they  lasted  they  had  to  some  extent 
stilled  the  tortures  of  thirst.  I generally  smoked  the  first 
half,  and  gave  the  rest  to  Kasim.  He  puffed  and  sucked 
away  at  the  paper  mouthpiece  for  a long  time,  and  declared 
it  did  him  a world  of  good.  But  that  last  cigarette  I finished 
myself,  for  I was  absolutely  alone. 

May  5th.  I dragged  myself  on  and  on  until  half  past 
twelve,  when  I sank  down  under  a tamarisk.  After  trying  in 
^'ain  to  kindle  a fire,  1 dosed  off. 

But  what  was  that  There  was  a rustling  in  the  sand.  1 
heard  footsteps.  I saw  a human  figure  gliding  past  in  the 
darkness.  “Is  that  you,  Kasim.?”  I asked.  “Yes,  sir,”  he 
answered.  The  coolness  of  the  night  had  revived  him,  and 
he  had  followed  in  my  footsteps.  I'he  meeting  cheered  us 
both,  and  we  continued  our  way  for  a time  in  the  pitch-dark 
night. 

But  our  strengtii  was  rapidly  deserting  us,  our  legs  tottered 
under  us;  we  struggled  hard  against  weariness,  against  the 


A DKSPKRATE  MARCH 


5«3 


desire  for  sleep.  1 he  steep  faces  of  the  dunes  now  looked 
almost  exclusively  towards  the  east.  1 slid  down  them.  I 
crept  long  distances  on  my  hands  and  knees.  W'e  were 
growing  indifferent : our  spirits  were  flagging.  .Still  we 
toiled  on  for  life — bare  life.  'I'hen  imagine  our  surprise,  our 
amazement,  when  on  the  long,  sloping  surface  of  a dune  we 
perceived  human  footsteps  imprinted  in  the  sand!  Down 
we  went  on  our  knees  and  examined  them.  'I'here  was  no 
doubt  of  it.  They  were  the  footprints  of  human  beings. 
.Somebody  had  travelled  that  way.  .Surely  we  could  not  be 
very  far  from  the  river  now;  for  what  could  bring  peoj)lc  out 
into  the  sandy  waste  I In  an  instant  we  were  wide  awake. 
But  Kasim  thought  that  the  trail  looked  wonderfully  fresh. 
“Just  so,”  I rejoined;  “that  is  not  at  all  strange,  d'here  has 
been  no  wind  for  several  days.  Perhaps  our  signal-fire  of  the 
night  before  last  has  been  seen  by  some  shepherd  in  the  forest 
beside  the  river,  and  he  has  come  a little  way  into  the  desert 
to  ascertain  what  was  the  cause  of  it.” 

We  followed  uj)  the  trail  till  we  came  to  the  top  of  a dune, 
where  the  sand  was  driven  together  in  a hard,  compact  mass, 
and  the  footprints  could  be  more  distinctly  made  out. 

Kasim  dropped  on  his  knees  ; then  cried,  in  a scarcely 
audible  voice,  “ They  are  our  own  footsteps !” 

I stooped  down  and  convinced  myself  that  he  was  right. 
The  footprints  in  the  sand  were  plainly  enough  caused  by 
our  own  boots,  and  at  regular  intervals  beside  them  were 
the  marks  of  the  spade ; for  Kasim  had  used  it  as  a staff 
to  support  himself  by.  It  was  a discouraging  discovery. 
How  long  had  we  been  going  round  and  round  in  a circle.^ 
We  comforted  ourselves  with  the  assurance  that  it  could  not 
possibly  have  been  very  long.  It  was  only  during  the  last 
hour  that  I had  been  so  overcome  with  sleep  that  I forgot  to 
look  at  the  compass.  But  we  had  at  any  rate  had  enough  of 
tramping  for  a while,  and  at  half-past  two  in  the  morning  lay 
down  and  slept  beside  the  track. 

We  awoke  at  daybreak  and  pushed  on  again.  It  was  then 
ten  minutes  past  four.  Kasim  was  a fearful  object  to  look  at. 
His  tongue  was  white,  dry,  and  swollen,  his  lips  bluish,  his 


5^4 


THROUGH  ASIA 


cheeks  sunken,  his  eyes  dull  and  glassy.  He  suffered  from 
a convulsive  hiccough,  which  shook  him  from  top  to  toe; 
it  was  like  the  singultus,  or  hiccough  of  death.  He  had  hard 
work  to  stand  up ; but  he  did,  and  managed  somehow  to 
follow  me. 

Our  throats  were  on  fire  with  the  hot  dryness.  We  fancied 
we  could  hear  our  joints  grating,  and  thought  they  would 
catch  fire  from  the  friction  of  walking.  Our  eyes  were  so 
dried  up  that  we  were  scarcely  able  to  open  and  shut  them. 

When  the  sun  rose  we  turned  our  eager  eyes  towards  the 
east.  'I'he  horizon  was  sharp  and  distinct,  and  had  a differ- 
ent outline  from  what  we  were  accustomed  to  see.  It  was 
no  longer  denticulated  as  if  formed  of  innumerable  series  of 
ridges  of  sand  ; it  was  a horizontal  line,  showing  scarce  per- 
ceptible inec|ualities.  After  going  a little  farther  we  per- 
ceived that  the  horizon  was  edged  with  a black  border. 
What  joy ! What  blessed  fortune ! It  was  the  forest  that 
lined  the  bank  of  the  Khotan-daria.  We  were  approaching  it 
at  last. 

Shortly  before  five  o’clock  we  came  to  a darah  (strictly 
speaking,  valley)  or  depression  in  the  sand,  and  I soon  arrix'ed 
at  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a former  bed  of  the  river. 
Numerous  poplars  grew  in  its  lowest  part,  d'here  must  be 
wa^er  not  very  far  below  them.  Once  more  we  seized  the 
spade ; but  we  had  not  strength  enough  to  dig.  We  were 
forced  to  struggle  on  again  towards  the  east.  We  travelled 
at  first  across  a belt  of  low,  barren  sand.  But  at  half-past 
five  we  entered  the  thick,  continuous  forest.  The  trees  were 
in  full  foliage,  and  their  leafy  crowns  filled  the  forest  beneath 
with  gloomy  shadows.  /\fter  all,  we  were  not  to  lose  our 
spring,  the  season  dedicated  to  hope! 

With  my  hand  to  my  brow,  I stood  riveted  to  the  spot  by 
the  niarvellous  sight.  It  cost  me  an  effort  to  collect  my 
senses.  I was  still  half  giddy,  as  if  newly  awakened  from  a 
hideous  dream  or  distressing  nightmare,  h'or  weeks  we  had 
been  dragging  ourselves,  slowly  dying  by  inches,  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death — and  now!  .All  around  us,  in 
whichever  direction  we  turned  our  eyes,  life  and  spring-time, 


A DKSPHRATH  MARCH 


5‘^5 

the  singing  of  birds,  the  scent  of  the  woods,  green  leaves  in 
every  variety  of  tint,  refreshing  shade,  and  over  there,  among 
the  Iioary  jjatriarchs  of  the  forest,  innumerable  sj)oor  of  wild 
animals — tigers,  wolves,  deer,  foxes,  antelopes,  gazelles,  hares. 
'I'he  air  was  alive  with  dies  and  midges  ; beetles  went  whizzing 
j)ast  us  as  swift  as  arrows,  their  wings  humming  like  the  notes 
of  an  organ  ; and  the  morning  songs  of  the  birds  trilled  from 
every  branch. 

The  wood  e;rew  denser  and  denser.  .At  intervals  the  stems 
of  the  poplars  were  entwined  with  creepers:  and  our  progress 
was  often  interrupted  by  imjjenetrable  labyrinths  of  dead  trees, 
branches,  and  brushwood,  or  equally  often  by  dense  thickets 
of  thornv  bushes. 

At  ten  minutes  past  seven  the  forest  grew  thinner.  W'e 
saw  between  the  trees  indistinct  traces  of  both  men  and  horses. 
Hut  it  was  impossible  to  determine  how  old  they  were,  for  the 
forest  protected  them  against  the  obliterating  effects  of  the 
sand-storms.  W’hat  joy  ! what  bliss!  I felt — I was  sure  we 
were  saved  now. 

I suggested  that  we  should  go  straight  through  the  forest, 
steering  due  east,  for  in  that  direction  the  river  could  not  be 
verv  far  away.  Hut  Kasim  thought  that  the  trail,  which  un- 
doubtedly marked  a road  of  some  kind,  would  gradually  lead 
us  to  the  river  banks.  And  as  the  trail  was  easy  to  follow, 
and  kept  all  the  time  in  the  shade,  I adopted  Kasim’s  sug- 
gestion. 

W'eak  and  struggling,  we  followed  the  trail  towards  the 
south  ; but  by  nine  o’clock  we  were  completely  done  up  by 
the  tropical  heat,  and  dropped  on  the  ground  in  the  shade  of 
two  or  three  poplars.  With  my  naked  hands  I scratched  out 
a hole  between  the  roots,  and  lay  there,  tossing  and  turning 
all  day  long  from  the  heat,  without  being  able  to  sleep  a wink. 
Kasim  was  stretched  out  on  his  back,  muttering  deliriously 
and  moaning  to  himself ; nor  did  he  answer  when  I spoke  to 
him — not  e\-en  when  I shook  him. 

The  day  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  end.  My  patience  was 
tried  to  the  uttermost;  for  I felt  certain  the  river  must  be  in 
our  immediate  vicinity,  and  I was  dying  to  get  to  it. 


586 


THROUGH  ASIA 


It  was  seven  o’clock  before  I was  able  to  dress  myself. 
I called  upon  Kasim  to  come  with  me  to  the  water.  But 
he  was  beaten  at  last.  He  shook  his  head,  and  with  a 
gesture  of  despair  signed  to  me  to  go  on  alone,  drink,  and 
bring  back  water  to  him  ; otherwise  he  would  just  die  where 
he  lay. 

I took  off  the  blade  of  the  spade  and  hung  it  on  a branch 
which  stretched  across  the  path,  so  that  I might  be  able  to 
find  again  the  point  where  we  entered  the  forest;  for  I now 
had  hopes  of  being  able  to  recover  the  baggage  we  had  left 
behind — we  had  only  to  go  due  west  from  the  place  where 
we  struck  the  forest  and  we  should  come  to  it.  I considered 
that  Islam  and  the  other  men  were  already  dead.  The  spade- 
shaft  I took  with  me.  It  would  be  a staff  to  help  me  along, 
and  would  also  serve  as  a weapon  if  I wanted  one. 

I cut  right  across  the  forest,  still  directing  my  course  to  the 
east.  It  was  anything  but  easy  work.  Two  or  three  times  I 
very  nearly  got  stuck  fast  in 'the  thorny  bushes.  I tore  my 
clothes  and  scratched  my  hands.  I rested  unceasingly  on 
roots  and  fallen  tree-trunks;  I was  fearfully  tired.  Twilight 
came  on.  It  grew  dark.  It  cost  me  almost  inconceivable 
efforts  to  keep  awake.  Then  all  at  once  the  forest  came  to 
an  end,  as  abruptly  as  though  it  had  been  smitten  by  fire, 
and  to  the  east  stretched  a dead  level  plain  of  hard,  consoli- 
dated clay  and  sand.  It  lay  five  or  six  feet  below  the  level  of 
the  forest,  and  showed  not  a single  trace  of  a sand-dune.  I 
recognized  it  at  once;  it  could  not  possibly  be  anything  but 
the  bed  of  the  Khotan-daria.  And  I soon  had  my  inference 
confirmed.  I came  across  the  trunks  and  branches  of  poplar- 
trees,  half  buried  in  the  ground;  I noticed  furrows  and  sharply 
broken  edges  a foot  high  or  more,  all  evidently  due  to  the 
action  of  a runnim>'  stream.  But  the  sand  was  as  drv  as  the 

o ^ 

sand  in  the  desert  dunes.  The  river-bed  was  emj)ty,  waiting 
for  the  summer  floods  to  come  down  from  the  mountains. 

It  was  inconceivable  that  I should  j^erish  in  tlie  very  bed 
of  the  river  1 had  been  so  long  and  so  desperately  seeking; 
that  I could  not  believe.  I called  to  mind  the  tendency  of 
the  Yarkand-daria  to  shift  its  channel  to  the  east,  and  recol- 


CRAWLING  THROUGH  THE  FOREST  IN  SEARCH  OF  WATER 


A i)Hspi*:r ATI-:  march 


5«9 


Iccted  the  ancient  river-bed  we  had  crossed  in  the  forest. 
\'erv  likelv  the  Khotan-daria  ol^eyed  the  same  tendency. 
\’ery  likelv  /A'  current  clung  hv  preference  to  the  eastern 
bank;  I mu;>t  therefore  find  it.  if  1 would  find  the  deepest 
j)laces  in  the  river  channel.  1 resohed  to  cross  o\er  to  the 
other  side  before  I gave  uj)  all  hoi)e. 

I now  changed  my  course  to  due  southeast.  Why  so 
W’hv  did  I not  keep  on  towards  the  east,  as  1 had  always 
<lone  hitherto?  1 do  not  know.  Perhaps  the  moon  be- 
witched me;  for  she  showed  her  silver  crescent  in  that 
cpiarter  of  the  lieavens  and  shed  down  a dim,  pale-blue  illu- 
mination over  the  silent  scene.  Leaning  on  the  sj)ade-shaft, 
I plodded  away  at  a steady  pace  in  a straight  line  towards 
the  southeast,  as  though  I were  being  led  by  an  unseen  but 
irresistible  hand.  At  intervals  I was  seized  by  a traitorous 
desire  to  sleep,  and  was  obliged  to  stop  and  rest.  .My  pulse 
was  e.xcessively  weak  ; I could  scarcely  discern  its  beats.  I 
had  to  steel  m\'self  by  the  strongest  effort  of  will  to  prevent 
mvself  from  dropj)ing  off  to  sleej).  1 was  afraid  that  if  I did 
go  off  I should  never  waken  again.  I walked  with  my  eyes 
riveted  upon  the  moon,  and  kept  e.\j)ecting  to  see  its  silver 
belt  glittering  on  the  dark  waters  of  the  stream.  Hut  no  such 
sight  met  my  eyes.  The  whole  of  the  east  quarter  was  en- 
shrouded in  the  cold  night  mist. 

After  going-  about  a mile  and  a half,  I was  at  length  able 
to  distinguish  the  dark  line  of  the  forest  on  the  right  bank 

«r»  o 

of  the  river.  It  gradually  became  more  distinct  as  I ad- 
\’anced.  There  was  a thicket  of  bushes  and  reeds;  a poplar 
blown  down  by  the  wind  lay  across  a deep  hole  in  the  river- 
bed. I was  only  a few  yards  from  the  bank  when  a wild 
duck,  alarmed  by  my  approach,  flew  up  and  away  as  swift  as 
an  arrow.  I heard  a splash,  and  in  the  next  moment  I stood 
on  the  brink  of  a little  pool  filled  with  fresh,  cool  water — 
beautiful  water ! 


CHAPTER  XLYIII 


HUMAN  I!EIN(;S  AT  LAST 

It  would  be  vain  for  me  to  try  to  describe  the  feelings 
which  now  overpowered  me.  They  may  be  imagined  ; thev 
cannot  be  described.  Before  drinking  I counted  my  pulse: 
it  was  forty-nine.  Then  I took  the  tin  box  out  of  my  pocket, 
filled  it,  and  drank.  How  sweet  that  water  tasted  ! Xobodv 
can  conceive  it  who  has  not  been  within  an  ace  of  dving  of 
thirst.  I lifted  the  tin  to  my  lips,  calmly,  slowly,  delib(‘rately, 
and  drank,  drank,  drank,  time  after  time.  How  delicious  I 
what  exquisite  j^leasure  ! d’he  noblest  wine  pressed  out  of 
the  grape,  the  divinest  nectar  ever  made,  was  never  half  so 
sweet.  My  hopes  had  not  deceived  me.  The  star  of  my 
fortunes  shone  as  brightly  as  ever  it  did. 

I do  not  think  I at  all  exaggerate  if  I say  that  during  the 
first  ten  minutes  I drank  between  five  and  six  joints.  The 
tin  box  held  not  quite  an  ordinary  tumblerful,  and  I emjitled 
it  quite  a score  of  times.  At  that  moment  it  never  entered 
my  head  that,  after  such  a long  fast,  it  might  be  dangerous 
to  drink  in  such  quantity.  But  I experienced  not  the  slight- 
est ill  effects  from  it.  On  the  contrary,  I felt  how  that  cold, 
clear,  delicious  water  infused  new  energy  into  me.  kivery 
blood-vessel  and  tissue  of  my  body  sucked  up  the  life-giving 
liquid  like  a sponge.  My  pulse,  which  had  been  so  feeble, 
now  beat  strong  again.  At  the  end  of  a few  minutes  it  was 
already  fifty-six.  My  blood,  which  had  lately  been  so  slug- 
gish and  so  slow  that  it  was  scarce  able  to  creej)  through  the 
capillaries,  now  coursed  easily  through  every  blood-vessel. 
My  hands,  which  had  been  dry,  parched,  and  as  hard  as  wood, 
swelled  out  again.  My  skin,  which  had  been  like  parchment, 
turned  moist  and  elastic.  And  soon  afterwards  an  active  per- 


11 1’ MAN  HlANCiS  AT  LAST 


59‘ 


spiration  broke  out  uj)on  my  brow.  In  a word,  I felt  my 
whole  body  was  imbibing  fresh  life  and  fresh  strength.  It 
was  a solemn,  an  awe-inspiring  moment. 

Never  did  life  seem  to  me  richer,  more  beautiful,  more  val- 
uable than  it  did  that  night  in  the  bed  of  the  Khotan-daria. 
The  future  smiled  upon  me  from  the  midst  of  a magic  sea  of 
light.  Life  was  worth  living.  I'he  talk  about  life  being  a 
vale  of  misery  seemed  to  me  utter  nonsense.  An  angel’s 
hand  had  guided  me  through  the  darkness  of  the  night  to 
the  little  pool  in  the  river-bed.  I imagined  I saw  a heavenly 
being  floating  by  my  side,  and  thought  I could  hear  the  rus- 
tle of  his  wings.  Never  before,  and  never  since,  have  I so 
vividly  realized  the  sublime  influence  of  the  Eternal. 

After  drinking  my  fill,  and  making  sure  of  my  wonderful 
escape  from  a miserable  death,  and  after  the  ecstasy  had  sub- 
sided which  came  upon  me  when  I felt  new  life  streaming 
through  my  veins,  and  as  soon  as  my  entire  [physical  being 
had  entered  upon  a more  normal  course,  I drank  several 
more  tins  of  water.  After  that  mv  thoughts  began  to  flow 
back  in  ordinary  channels,  and  I awoke  to  the  realities  of  the 
moment,  and  became  attenti\e  to  my  immediate  surround- 
ings. 

The  pool  was  situated  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  river-bed, 
near  the  eastern  bank,  and  had  been  left  behind  by  the  pre- 
ceding summer’s  flood.  It  lay,  therefore,  below  the  general 
level  of  the  river-bed,  so  that  I had  been  unable  to  observe  it 
until  I almost  stumbled  into  it.  Had  I gone  fifty  paces 
farther  to  the  right  or  fifty  paces  farther  to  the  left,  I should 
have  missed  it;  and,  as  I learned  afterwards,  it  was  a long 
distance  to  the  next  pool  both  up  and  down  the  river.  The 
merchants  who  are  accustomed  to  travel  every  spring  with 
their  caravans  between  Khotan  and  Ak-su  know  where  all 
these  pools  are,  and  always  make  them  their  camping-places 
for  the  night.  Perhaps  I should  have  lost  my  way  if  I had 
not  found  the  pool  ; perhaps  my  strength  would  not  have 
held  out  until  I reached  the  next. 

The  eastern  bank  of  the  river  was  fringed  with  the  dry,  yel- 
low reeds  of  the  previous  year,  and  the  young,  green  spring 


592 


THROUGH  ASIA 


sprouts  were  pushing  themselves  up  between  the  tall,  close-set 
stalks  of  the  old.  Behind  the  reed-beds  towered  the  forest, 
sombre  and  threatening,  with  the  silver  crescent  of  the  moon 
hanging  in  the  crown  of  a tall  poplar.  I sat  beside  the  pool, 
and  noticed  that  its  bright  surface,  seen  under  the  dark 
shadows  of  the  forest,  was  black  as  ink.  The  pool  was  about 
twenty  yards  long. 

Then  I heard  a rustling  in  the  thicket  close  beside  me,  the 
sound  of  stealthy  footsteps,  and  the  crackling  of  the  dry  reeds 
as  they  were  pushed  aside.  It  might  have  been  a tiger.  But 
anyway  I felt  not  a quiver  of  fear.  I had  just  been  granted  a 
renewal  of  life.  The  mere  thought  of  seeing  a tiger’s  head, 
with  its  glittering  eyes,  peeping  out  of  the  reeds,  had  a sort 
of  fascination  for  me.  I would  look  into  them  fearlessly,  and 
ask  the  beast  how  he  durst  think  of  taking  my  dearly  bought 
life.  But  the  intruder,  whatever  he  was,  withdrew.  His  foot- 
steps died  away  in  the  reeds.  Whether  it  was  a tiger,  or  some 
other  wild  animal  of  the  forest,  which  had  come  down  to  the 
pool  to  drink,  it  had  at  any  rate  deemed  it  prudent  to  remain 
at  a distance  so  long  as  the  place  was  haunted  by  a human 
being. 

'Fhen  my  thoughts  flew  back  to  Kasim,  whom  I left  lying 
alone  in  the  forest,  fighting  against  death,  unable  to  move  a 
yard,  still  less  drag  h.imself  a distance  of  three  hours  to  the 
pool  of  water.  He  was  in  urgent  need  of  imiuediate  help. 
The  chocolate  tin  was  too  small  to  carry  water  in:  it  would 
merely  have  wetted  his  lips.  What  was  to  be  done  How 
was  I to  carry  him  a sufficient  quaiitity  of  the  life-giving 
elixir  ? 

My  boots!  Of  course;  my  Swedish  water- ]:>roof  boots. 
They  were  quite  as  good,  quite  as  safe,  as  any  other  utensil. 
Plump  they  went  into  the  pool.  Then  I threaded  the  spade- 
shaft  through  the  straps,  and  carrying  it  like  a yoke  over  my 
right  shoulder,  hastened  back  with  a buoyant  step  along  the 
track  by  which  I came. 

The  boots  were  filled  to  the  brim  with  the  precious  liquid 
that  was  o;oin»:  to  "ive  fresh  life  to  Kasim.  Some  of  it  was 
spilled  owing  to  the  haste  I was  in  ; but  not  a droj)  came 


ini'.  AU'IIIOR  CARkVI.VG  WA'IKR  IN  Ills  |i(JOTS,  IN  1 1 1 1-.  UKI)  OR  lllK  K 1 IOTAN-1  iA R1 A 


1 


iirM.\x\  ni<:ii\c;s  at  last 


595 


through  the  leather.  Master  Stjernstrom  in  Stockholm 
never  made  a i)air  of  boots  before  which  not  only  saved  a 
man’s  life  but  also  travelled  right  across  Asia  and  back 
again.  In  consequence  of  this  my  boots  afterwards  became 
in  their  way  famous. 

riie  moon  still  ])oured  her  soft  mellow  light  along  the 
river-bed,  so  that  1 had  no  difficulty  in  following  my  own 
footmarks  through  the  sand,  besides,  it  was  no  longer  hea\y 
walking,  my  weariness  had  disapj^eared,  and  I almost  flew 
towards  the  forest  that  lined  the  left  bank.  In  the  forest  it 
was  not  so  easy  to  get  along.  My  socks  were  thin,  and  my 
feet  were  continually  getting  j)ricked  by  thorns  and  splinters. 
Hut  a worse  evil  was  a thick  veil  of  cloud,  caused,  no  doubt, 
by  the  rising  mist,  which  came  between  the  moon  and  me,  so 
that  the  forest  became  pitch  - dark,  and  I lost  the  trail.  I 
lighted  matches,  and  vainlv  tried  to  rediscover  it.  I had  re- 
course  to  my  comjjass.  I shouted  “ Kasim  ” ; but  my  voice 
died  away  among  the  thousands  of  ]:>oi)lars  without  eliciting 
an  answer.  For  a while  I went  on  at  hajjhazard,  constantly 
shouting  my  attendant’s  name  with  all  the  strength  of  my 
lungs.  But  at  last  I grew  tired  of  that  aimless  wandering; 
I was  only  getting  lost  deeper  and  deeper  in  the  silent  forest. 
I resolved,  therefore,  to  stop  and  wait  for  daylight.  1 chose 
out  an  impenetrable  thicket  in  which  lumber,  dead  branches, 
and  shrivelled  tree-trunks  lay  heaped  together  in  wild  con- 
fusion, and  set  fire  to  them.  In  a trice  the  flames  were  leap- 
ing up  fiercely ; the  dry  branches  crackled,  spluttered,  e.x- 
ploded.  The  draught  from  the  bottom  was  so  strong  that  it 
whistled  and  sizzled,  and  a tall  column  of  fire  licked  the 
trunks  of  the  poplars  standing  near.  It  was  as  light  as  noon- 
tide: the  forest,  lately  so  black,  was  lit  up  with  a reddish  yel- 
low glare.  Kasim  could  hardly  help  seeing  such  a fire  as 
that,  or  hearing  its  loud  crackling,  for  he  could  not  be  any 
great  distance  away.  Again  I shouted  out  his  name,  and, 
with  the  light  of  the  fire  to  help  me,  again  looked  for  my  trail ; 
but  I did  not  find  it.  I lav  down  flat  on  the  sand,  and  watched 
the  furious  burning  of  the  fire;  and  so  watching  fell  asleep. 
For  a couple  of  hours  I slept  calmly  and  well ; having  first 


596 


THROUGH  ASIA 


taken  the  precaution  to  lie  down  in  a spot  where  the  fire 
could  not  reach  me,  yet  near  enough  to  be  safe  from  tigers 
and  other  wild  animals. 

Day  was  breaking  when  I awoke.  The  fire  had  dwindled 
a good  deal,  since  its  progress  was  checked  by  a fresh  belt  of 
live  poplars,  which  it  had  only  been  able  to  blacken  and 
scorch  ; and  a heavy  column  of  smoke  hung  over  the  forest. 
My  boots,  which  were’  leaning  against  a tree -root,  had  not 
lost  one  drop  of  their  precious  contents;  the  earth  under- 
neath them  was  not  even  damp.  I swallowed  a mouthful  of 
water  and  set  al^out  looking  for  my  trail  of  the  night  before, 
and  now  I quickly  found  it.  Wlien  I came  to  Kasim,  he  was 
lying  in  the  same  position  in  which  I left  him.  He  glared  at 
me  with  the  wild,  startled  eyes  of  a faun  ; but  upon  recogniz- 
ing me,  made  an  effort,  and  crept  a yard  or  two  nearer,  gasp- 
ing out,  “ I am  dying.” 

“ Would  you  like  some  water  I asked,  quite  calmly.  He 
merely  shook  his  head,  and  collapsed  again.  He  had  no  con- 
ception of  what  was  in  the  boots.  I placed  one  of  the  boots 
near  him,  and  shook  it  so  that  he  might  hear  the  splashing  of 
the  water.  He  started,  uttered  an  inarticulate  cry ; and  when 
I put  the  boot  to  his  lips,  he  emptied  it  at  one  draught  with- 
out once  stopping;  and  the  next  moment  he  emptied  the 
second. 

May  6th.  Kasim  went  through  the  same  series  of  changes 
that  I had  "one  throu"h  the  evenin"  before.  As  soon  as  he 

o o 

recovered  his  reason  we  took  counsel  together,  and  as  the 
outcome  of  our  deliberations  decided  that  our  best  plan  was 
to  go  back  to  the  pool  and  take  a good  rest  somewhere  near 
it,  and  wash  ourselves,  a luxury  we  had  not  enjoyed  for  more 
tlian  a week.  But  Kasim  was  still  so  weak  that  he  was  unable 
to  keej)  ujD  with  me.  He  reeled  about  like  a drunken  man, 
and  kept  constantly  sitting  down.  Seeing  that  he  was  on  the 
right  track  for  the  pool,  and  that  1 could  not  do  more  for  him 
than  1 had  done  already,  I hurried  on  ahead.  When  1 came 
to  the  ])ool  I drank  and  bathed,  and  then  waited  fully  an 
hour.  But  Kasim  did  not  come. 

Hunger  began  to  be  importunate.  It  was  of  the  first  im- 


HUMAN  BH INCUS  AT  LAST 


597 


])ortance  that  1 should  find  luinian  beings  as  soon  as  I possi- 
blv  could,  both  for  the  sake  of  food  and  also  to  enlist  their  hel]) 
to  return  into  the  desert  to  the  assistance  of  Islam,  and  to 
fetch  such  of  our  goods  as  might  be  saved.  In  the  mean  time, 
therefore,  I left  Kasim  to  his  fate,  and  hastened  on  at  a rapid 
pace  up  the  right  bank — that  is,  due  south.  My  boots  were 
still  so  wet  that  I was  unable  to  get  them  on,  and  so  went 
barefoot. 

At  nine  o'clock  there  sprang  up  an  e.xtremely  violent  storm 
from  the  west,  which  drove  clouds  of  sand  and  dust  before  it 
across  the  bed  of  the  river,  aud  darkened  the  sun  so  that  I had 
not  the  smallest  occasion  to  comj)lain  of  e.xcessive  heat.  But 
the  thick  haze  completely  shut  out  every  view  of  the  surround- 
ings, so  that  I could  see  neither  the  forest  on  my  right  nor 
that  on  my  left.  After  going  a stretch  of  about  three  hours 
I was  again  tormented  by  thirst,  for  my  mouth  and  throat 
were  parched  by  the  hot  drift-sand  and  the  buran  (storm),  and 
between  them  they  nearl\-  choked  me.  I turned  aside  into 
the  forest  and  sought  shelter  in  the  undergrowth.  I sat  there 
a while,  full  of  an.xious  thought.  All  at  once  it  Hashed  across 
my  mind  that  it  might  be  days  to  the  ne.xt  water -j)ool,  and 
that  it  would  be  unwise  to  leave  the  one  which  I had  in  such 
a wonderful  manner  discovered.  Moreover,  1 thoimht  it  would 
be  an  e.xcellent  thing  to  see  Kasim  again.  I therefore  turned 
back  towards  the  north.  But  I had  barely  gone  half  an  hour 
when  I stumbled  by  chance  upon  a tiny  pool,  scarcely  a yard 
across,  and  containing  a little  muddy  water  with  a faintly 
saltish  taste.  I drank  an  enormous  quantity  of  it.  I was 
overcome  with  weariness;  but  did  not  know  what  was  the 
wisest  thing  to  do.  There  was  water  here,  and  I had  no  im- 
mediate  use  of  Kasim.  On  the  other  hand,  I found  I was  un- 
able to  travel  far  towards  the  .south.  Perhaps  it  would  be  best 
to  wait,  and  as  soon  as  the  storm  ceased,  bv  means  of  signal- 
fires  warn  any  persons  who  might  chance  to  be  travelling  the 
forest  road  that  ran  along  the  river-bank. 

I therefore  cast  about  for  a dense  thicket  close  to  the  pool, 
and  well  protected  from  the  storm.  Placing  my  boots  and 
cap  under  my  head  for  a pillow,  I slept  deeply  and  heavily — 


THROUGH  ASIA 


59'^ 

the  first  good  sound  sleep  I had  had  since  May  ist.  When  I 
awoke  it  was  already  dark,  and  the  storm  still  roared  through 
the  forest.  It  was  eight  o’clock  in  the  evening.  After  an- 
other good  drink  out  of  the  pool  I made  a big  bonfire,  and 
sat  down  beside  it  and  stared  into  the  flames  for  a loner  time. 

O 

But  I was  tormented  by  the  pangs  of  hunger.  With  the  view 
of  cheating  my  stomach  a little,  I gathered  some  grass  and 
shoots  of  reed,  and  a bunch  of  young  frogs  out  of  the  pool. 
The  frogs  were  refractory;  so  I gave  them  a nip  at  the  back 
of  the  head  and  swallowed  them  whole.  After  “supper”  I 
scraped  together  a big  pile  of  dry  branches  to  feed  the  fire 
with  during  the  night. 

If  only  I had  had  Yolldash  with  me  to  keep  me  company! 
Perhaps  he  was  still  alive,  and  had  followed  our  trail  to  the 
river.  I whistled  as  loudly  as  I could,  whistled  again  and 
again.  But  no  Yolldash  came  scampering  up.  Then  I 
dropped  off  again. 

May  7th.  The  storm  had  ceased,  although  the  atmosphere 
was  still  heavily  charged  with  dust.  This  “ black  buran  ” 
suggested  a gloomy  and  depressing  idea.  It  was  the  first 
since  the  caravan  collapsed.  It  had  come  to  cast  the  first 
shovelfuls  of  earth  over  my  dead  attendants  and  the  camels, 
and  it  would  blot  out  every  trace  of  our  trail  through  the 
sand;  so  that  Islam  Bai,  supposing  he  still  lived,  would  per- 
haj)s  never  be  able  to  find  us.  But  then,  again,  he  had  a 
compass.  And  even  supposing  we  did  come  across  men, 
and  supposing  they  were  willing  to  go  with  us  into  the  desert 
as  far  as  the  tent,  we  should  now  e.xpcrience  the  utmost  diffi- 
culty in  finding  it,  seeing  that  we  could  no  longer  retrace  our 
footsteps  through  the  sand. 

d'hen  I thought  of  another  thing.  There  was  not  a single 
trace  of  human  beings  in  that  immediate  locality,  not  a sign 
of  anybody  having  passed  that  way  at  all  recently.  Perhaj)s 
nobody  travelled  that  way  during  the  hot  season  ? If  I 
waited  there  for  help,  I might  perchance  die  of  hunger  before 
help  came.  My  last  e.xamination  of  Przhevalsky’s  maj)  seemed 
to  show  that  we  should  strike  the  river  in  the  district  called 
Buksem,  about  25  .Swedish  or  150  hhiglish  miles  from  the 


WOUl.l)  YOU  I.IK1-;  SO.MK  \V.VIi:i<?”  I ASKED 


HUMAN  HKINGS  AT  LAST 


6oi 


town  of  Khotan.  If  I went  well,  I ought  to  travel  that  dis- 
tance in  six  clays. 

'I'o  decide  was  to  act.  At  half-jjast  four  off  I started.  I 
followed  the  middle  of  the  river-bed  in  as  straight  a line  as  I 
could;  and  as  a conseciuence  of  the  almost  dead  level,  the 
channel  was  pretty  nearly  straight,  and  varied  from  half  a 
mile  to  two  miles  in  width.  I took  the  precaution  to  fill  my 
boots  with  water;  but  at  the  end  of  some  hours  my  feet  were 
so  sore  and  blistered  that  I was  obliged  to  try  and  protect 
them  bv  doubling  my  socks  over  them,  and  by  bandaging 
them  in  strips  of  my  shirt. 

After  a while  I came  uj)on  another  small  pool,  containing 
fresh  water.  I enijjtied  my  boots  of  the  brackish  water  I was 
carrying  and  filled  them  with  the  sweet.  .After  that  I fol- 
lowed the  left  bank  of  the  stream,  and  there,  to  my  great  joy, 
discovered  a sheepfold  constructed  of  branches  of  trees.  Hut 
upon  examining  it  I saw  it  was  a long  time  since  it  had  been 
used.  In  the  river-bed  close  beside  it  I i^erceived  signs  of  a 
well  having  been  dug. 

Weariness  and  the  heat  of  the  day  combined  drove  me, 
about  half-past  eleven,  into  the  shelter  of  the  forest.  There 
I halted,  gathered  young  reed-shoots  and  grass,  cut  them  uji 
fine,  and  mixed  them  with  water  in  the  chocolate  tin.  That 
was  my  breakfast. 

After  noon  1 went  on  again  hour  after  hour,  until  I really 
could  go  no  longer.  It  was  eight  o’clock  when  I stopped, 
and  made  my  fire,  and  “camped.” 

May  8th.  I started  before  daybreak,  still  keeping  to  the 
left  bank,  which  ran  towards  the  south-southwest.  .Strange  I 
did  not  meet  anybody!  Perhaps  the  caravan-road  lay  deeper 
in  the  forest,  so  that  I might  easily  pass  people  without  see- 
ing them.  I thought  I had  better  go  and  look ; so  I crossed 
through  the  forest,  going  due  west.  It  was  only  about  half 
a mile  wide,  and  on  the  other  side  of  it  I came  upon  that 
terrible  ocean  of  yellow  sand,  which  I knew  so  well,  and  now 
fled  from  with  horror.  Another  hour  later,  the  sand-dunes, 
which  stretched  from  north  - northwest  to  south  - southeast, 
came  down  in  several  places  close  to  the  brink  of  the  river. 


602 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Along  the  edge  of  the  desert  there  were  poplars  growing 
singly  and  at  wide  intervals  apart.  Overcome  by  the  heat,  I 
threw  myself  down  under  the  shade  of  one  of  them  to  rest.  On 
my  way  to  that  point  I had  passed  no  less  than  eight  small  pools; 
in  most  of  them,  however,  the  water  had  a faint  saltish  taste. 

After  resting  a couple  of  hours,  I continued  my  solitary 
journey  towards  the  south.  If  there  was  a caravan  road 
alongside  the  river,  it  was  manifest  it  did  not  follow  the  left 
bank,  for  nobody  would  travel  through  the  sand-dunes  unless 
they  were  compelled  to  do  so.  I must  cross  over  and  see 
what  promise  there  was  in  the  forest  on  the  right  bank.  At 
this  place  the  river-bed  was  about  a mile  and  a quarter  wide. 
But  I found  no  caravan-track  in  the  forest  on  the  right  bank 
either.  I therefore  went  back  to  the  river-bed,  and  travelled 
close  beside  the  bank  and  the  edge  of  the  forest.  About 
350  yards  farther  on  there  were  two  small  islands  in  the 
river,  covered  with  bushes  and  poplars ; and  between  the 
southern  island  and  the  river-bank  I perceived,  shortly  before 
sunset,  the  fresh  footmarks  of  two  barefooted  men  who  had 
gone  that  way,  but  in  the  opposite  direction — that  is,  towards 
the  north — driving  four  donkeys  before  them. 

Footprints  of  human  beings ! A remarkable,  an  encourag- 
ing sight!  I was  not  absolutely  alone,  then,  in  that  inhospi- 
table region.  The  footprints  were  so  fresh  that  every  detail 
of  the  men’s  feet  was  plainly  marked  in  the  sand.  At  the 
most  they  could  not  be  more  than  a day  old.  Strange  I had 
not  met  them,  seeing  that  we  were  travelling  in  opposite  di- 
rections. But  perhaps  they  rested  during  the  day  and  only 
travelled  at  night  Where  had  they  come  from  Where 
were  they  going  to?  W here  was  their  last  camp?  Wms  it 
in  a dwelling-place  of  men,  or  was  it  merely  by  the  side  of  a 
pool  in  the  river  ? To  follow  them  up  would  have  served  no 
purpose,  for  they  had  too  long  a start  of  me  ; I should  never 
be  able  to  catch  them  up.  I had  no  alternative,  therefore, 
but  to  follow  the  trail  in  the  opposite  direction.  I observed 
the  ini})ressions  of  these  human  feet  with  the  greatest  inter- 
est and  attention;  and  led  on  by  them.  I hurried  along  south- 
ward, keej)ing  close  to  the  right  bank  of  the  Khotan-daria. 


CIIAPTI-R  XLIX 


wrm  'I'llK  SIIKIMIKRDS  OF  I'HK  KHOTAN'-DARIA 

Twii.tciit  was  bcginnint;'  to  s))read  its  dusky  wings  over 
the  silent  scene  when,  as  I was  passing  a projecting  head- 
land, I thouu'ht  1 heard  a wonderful  sound.  I stood  stock- 
still ; I held  iny  hreath  and  listened.  Hut  all  was  silent  as 
before.  I concluded  it  must  have  been  a thrush  or  some 
other  bird  which  had  .several  times  startled  me  already,  and 
made  me  stop  and  listen.  Hut  no;  there  it  was  again,  an 
unmistakable  shout;  and  it  was  immediately  followed  by  the 
lowing  of  a cow,  a \oice  which  in  my  ears  was  welcomer  than 
the  singing  of  a prima  donna. 

1 hurriedly  i)ulled  on  my  wet  boots,  so  as  not  to  look  like 
a madman,  and  with  my  heart  in  my  mouth  hurried  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  sounds  proceeded.  I pushed  my 
way  through  thorny  thickets;  I jumped  over  fallen  tree- 
trunks;  I stumbled;  I tripped  again  and  again;  I forced 
myself  through  dense  beds  of  kamish,  through  heaps  of 
crackling  branches.  The  farther  I went  the  more  distinctly 
I heard  the  voices  of  men  talking  and  the  bleating  of  sheep, 
and  through  an  opening  in  the  forest  I caught  a glim])se  of  a 
dock  of  sheep  grazing.  A shepherd  with  a long  staff  in  his 
hand  was  keeping  watch  over  them,  and  when  he  perceived 
me,  in  my  tattered  clothes  and  blue  spectacles,  breaking 
out  of  the  tangled  thickets,  he  was  not  a little  startled  and 
amazed.  Probably  he  took  me  for  a goblin  of  the  forest,  or 
an  evil  spirit  from  the  desert,  who  had  lost  his  way  and 
wandered  thither  by  mistake.  He  stood  as  though  rooted 
to  the  spot  with  terror,  and  could  do  nothing  but  stare  at 
me  open-mouthed.  I greeted  him  with  the  usual  “ Salaam 
alcikiun  !"  (Peace  be  with  you!),  and  began  to  tell  him  in  a 


6o4 


THROUGH  ASIA 


few  words  how  I came  thither.  But  he  turned  abruptly  on 
his  heel  and  disappeared  into  the  nearest  thicket,  leaving  his 
sheep  to  their  fate. 

After  a while  he  came  back  in  company  with  an  older 
shepherd,  who  was  more  amenable  to  reason.  I greeted 
him  in  the  same  way  as  I had  done  the  first  man,  with 
'"Salaam  alcikum !"  Then  I told  him  the  whole  story  of 
my  journey  across  the  desert.  When  I said  that  I had  eaten 
nothing  for  a week  and  asked  them  for  a piece  of  bread,  they 
led  me  to  a hut  close  by  constructed  of  branches,  and  scarcely 
five  feet  high.  I sat  down  on  a ragged  felt  carpet,  and  the 
younger  shepherd  brought  out  a wooden  platter,  with  some 
freshly-baked  maize  bread.  I thanked  them,  then  broke  off 
a piece  and  began  to  eat;  but  I had  not  eaten  above  half  a 
dozen  mouthfuls  when  I turned  suddenly  faint.  The  shep- 
herds gave  me  a pan  of  sheep’s-milk,  which  tasted  e.vcellent. 
After  that  they  went  away  and  left  me  for  a little  while  alone, 
except  that  two  big  dogs  stayed  behind  and  barked  at  me 
unceasingly. 

Soon  after  dark  the  two  men  returned  to  the  hut,  accom- 
panied by  a third  shepherd.  Meanwhile  the  sheep  had  been 
driven  into  the  sheepfold,  to  protect  them  from  tigers  and 
wolves  during  the  night.  I and  the  three  shepherds  slept 
under  the  open  sky  beside  a big  fire. 

May  9th.  At  daybreak  the  shepherds  went  off  with  their 
docks.  Their  hut  stood  on  a little  hill  on  the  edge  of  the 
forest,  and  through  the  trees  commanded  a view  of  the 
Khotan  - daria.  A small  creek  came  close  up  to  the  hut, 
and  in  it  was  a pool  of  fresh  water.  But  in  addition  to  that 
the  sheidierds  had  digged  a well  in  the  bed  of  the  river,  so 
that  they  had  a plentiful  supply  of  good,  clear  water. 

At  noon  the  three  men  brought  back  their  docks,  so  that 
they  might  rest  around  the  well  during  the  hottest  ])art  of 
the  day.  This  gave  me  an  opj)ortunity  to  become  better 
acquainted  with  my  hosts.  Their  names  were  Vussuf  Bai, 
'I'ogda  Bai,  and  Pasi  .Akhun,  and  they  were  pasturing  170 
sheep  and  goats,  besides  60  cattle,  belonging  to  a bai  (rich 
man)  in  Khotan.  Winter  and  summer  alike  they  lay  out  in 


SIIKPUKRDS  OI'  I'HK  K I lOTAX-I  )A  RI A 605 


tlie  woods  with  tlieir  tlocks,  and  f«i‘  their  monotonous  work 
were  i)aid  collectively  only  20  tengeh*  (or  9 shillings)  a 
month,  together  with  maize  meal  and  bread.  .After  their 
tlocks  had  eaten  up  all  the  grass  in  one  i)asture-ground  they 
moved  on  to  another,  and  in  each  fresh  ])lace  they  came  to 
they  built  a hut,  unless  there  was  one  there  already,  left 
standing  from  the  ju'evious  \’ear.  'I'hey  had  been  onl)'  five 
days  in  the  spot  where  I found  them,  and  they  were  shortly 
going  to  a better  place,  d'he  district  as  a y hole  was  called 
Huksem  (Close  I'angled  \\*ood). 

'I'he  life  these  shej)herds  lead  must  be  e.xceedingly  lonelv 
and  devoid  of  pleasure,  and  one  day  remarkably  like  another; 
yet  they  looked  both  cheerful  and  contented.  rogda  Hai  was 
married,  but  his  wife  lived  in  Khotan.  W hen  1 asked  him 
why  she  did  not  accomj)any  him  into  the  forest  he  told  me 
that  the  Chinese,  who  sometimes  travelled  that  way,  would 
persist  in  molesting  the  native  women,  so  that  for  this  reason 
he  preferred  to  be  alone.  Once  or  twice  a year,  however,  he 
got  leave  to  go  into  the  town  to  see  his  wife.  My  arri\al  at 
their  camp  was  clearly  an  important  event  in  their  monotonous 
life.  .All  the  same,  they  looked  askance  at  me  ; it  was  evident 
they  regarded  me  as  a susjjicious  character.  Hut  their  susj)i- 
cion  was  to  some  e.xtent  disarmed  by  the  fact  that  I was  able 
to  speak  their  own  language,  and  readily  conversed  with  them. 

'I'hey  lived  almost  exclusively  upon  maize  bread,  water, 
and  tea,  this  last  strongly  flavored  with  pepper.  'Pwice  a 
day  they  baked  a large  loaf  and  divided  it  between  them. 
'I'hey  mixed  the  maize  flour  with  water  and  salt,  kneaded 
the  dough,  and  shaped  it  in  a circular  wooden  vessel  or  dish  ; 
then  spread  it  out  in  the  form  of  a flat  cake  upon  the  glow- 
ing embers  and  covered  it  up  with  hot  ashes.  In  three- 
cpiarters  of  an  hour  it  was  cooked,  and  tasted  exquisitely. 
I fairly  revelled  in  it,  and  the  shepherds  were  generous, 
despite  the  fact  that  they  knew  perfectly  well  I had  not  a 
single  tengeh  to  give  them  in  return. 


* .\  tengeh  of  Khotan  is  equivalent  to  two  tengeh  of  Kashgar ; and  a 
tengeh  of  Kashgar  is  worth  about  2\d. 


6o6 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Their  personal  belongings  were  not  many.  They  con- 
sisted, in  the  first  place,  of  the  clothes  they  wore — namely, 
a chapau,  or  outer  coat;  a tclpek,  or  sheepskin  cap,  with  the 
wool  on  the  outside  ; a belbagh,  or  girdle,  in  which  they  carried 
their  utensils  for  making  tea.  Their  lower  e.xtremities  were 
swathed  in  long  bandages,  and  their  feet  encased  in  pieces  of 
sheepskin  fastened  on  with  cord.  Besides  their  clothes  they 
possessed  a large  wooden  platter  {Icazang),  another  of  medium 
size  {ayag),  and  a small  one  {jam),  a gourd  {kapak)  for  holding 
water,  a large  ladle  or  spoon  {chunmch)  roughly  shaped  out 
of  the  root  of  a poplar,  a felt  carpet  {kigkiz),  and  a three- 
stringed guitar  {javab).  But  by  far  the  most  important  of 
their  belongings  was  the  axe  {balta),  a most  useful  implement, 
whether  they  wanted  to  make  a hut,  or  cut  firewood,  or  clear 
a path  for  their  flocks  through  the  thickets,  or  in  the  spring 
lop  off  the  young  shoots  and  branches  of  the  trees  to  feed 
their  sheep  and  goats  on.  Another  indispensable  instrument 
was  the  steel  {chakmak)  for  striking  fire;  but  once  they  have 
got  a fire  lighted  they  take  care  not  to  let  it  go  out  until  they 
move  on  to  another  place.  Before  driving  their  flocks  into 
the  forest  to  graze  they  covered  up  the  fire  with  ashes,  and 
when  they  came  back  again  in  the  evening  they  opened  out 
the  ashes,  placed  a few  dry  sticks  on  the  embers,  and  ciuickh' 
fanned  them  into  a flame.  But  they  also  used  dried  dung  for 
fuel.  They  kept  their  maize  meal  in  a sack,  and  placed  it 
and  all  their  other  belongings  on  the  roof  of  the  hut,  to  keep 
them  safe  from  the  dogs. 

There  was  first-rate  pasturage,  they  told  me,  on  both  banks 
of  the  river  all  the  way  to  the  town  of  Khotan,  and  it  grew 
more  plentiful  as  the  town  was  approached,  excei)t  that  in  the 
immediate  environs  there  were  no  pastures;  so  that  the  bais 
who  owned  sheep  kej)t  them  all  the  year  round  in  the  forests 
that  fringe  both  banks  of  the  Khotan-daria.  In  the  seasons 
during  which  the  river  was  dry  jx'ople  always  traxelled  along 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  which  was  as  hard  and  drv  as  a street, 
and  only  travelled  by  the  forest  ])aths  when  dri\’en  out  of  the 
river-bed  by  the  water. 

After  the  noontide  heat  was  passed,  the  shej)herds  again 


ii<:ri)s  oi-  thh  kho i'ax-daria  607 


went  off  into  the  woods  with  their  sheep  and  goats  and  cat- 
tle, and  1 was  left  alone,  though  not  for  long.  For  a caravan 
of  about  a hundred  donkeys,  carrying  rice  from  Khotan  to 
Ak-su,  went  jjast  the  hut.  The  caravan  leaders  rode  straight 
on  without  observing  me;  but  Fasi  .\khun  had  seen  them, 
and  told  them  of  my  adventures.  As  soon  as  they  were  gone 
by  I went  into  the  hut  to  rest;  but  almost  immediately  hear- 
ing the  rattle  of  stirrups  and  the  echo  of  voices,  I hurried 
out  again.  It  was  three  well-to-do  merchants,  each  riding  a 
capital  horse,  on  their  way  from  Ak-su  to  Khotan.  I'hey 
had  left  the  former  place  eleven  days  before,  and  hoped  to 
reach  the  latter  in  six  days  more. 

They  came  riding  through  the  forest  at  a smart  trot,  and 
bore  straight  down  upon  the  shejiherds’  hut.  d'hey  hastily 
dismounted,  and  advancing  towards  me,  without  hesitation, 
as  though  they  knew  I was  there  and  had  come  to  seek  me, 
they  politely  greeted  me.  I invited  them  to  sit  down.  'I'hen 
one  of  them,  a well-dressed  man  with  a black  beard,  told  me 
some  news  which  beyond  measure  delighted  me.  The  day 
before,  while  riding  along  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  some 
twelve  hours  north  of  Buksem,  they  saw  a man,  more  dead 
than  alive,  lying  by  the  side  of  a white  camel,  which  was 
grazing  on  the  border  of  the  forest.  Like  the  good  Samari- 
tan,  they  stopped  and  asked  him  what  was  the  matter.  All  he 
could  answer  was  to  gasp  out  “Su!  su !”  (Water!  water!). 
One  of  the  merchants  immediately  rode  off  to  the  nearest 
pool  and  brought  the  man  a kungan  (iron  pitcher)  full  of 
water.  The  sufferer,  who,  I soon  understood,  could  be  no- 
body but  Islam  Bai,  drained  the  pitcher  at  a single  draught. 
They  gave  him  bread,  and  raisins,  and  nuts  to  eat.  He  re- 
vived, and  told  them  how  he  came  to  be  there  in  the  pitiable 
condition  in  which  they  found  him. 

Islam  then  begged  the  three  merchants  to  look  for  me ; 
although,  he  said,  he  did  not  know  whether  I was  alive  or 
dead,  for  he  had  lost  my  trail  two  days  before.  If  they  found 
me,  he  earnestly  besought  them  to  lend  me  one  of  their 
horses,  so  that  I might  ride  to  Khotan,  and  rest  and  recover 
from  the  journey.  Thereupon  they  looked  for  me  all  along 


6o8 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  road,  until  at  length  they  found  me  in  the  hut ; and  they 
now  offered  me  the  use  of  one  of  their  horses,  that  I mitjht 
accompany  them  to  Khotan.  But  I never  hesitated  a mo- 
ment as  to  the  course  I ought  to  pursue.  I decided  to  stav 
where  I was  until  Islam  Bai  rejoined  me.  Seeing  that  he 
had  succeeded  in  bringing  one  of  the  camels  out  to  the  river, 
probably  he  had  saved  a portion  of  my  belongings.  Possibly 
my  diaries  and  maps  relating  to  our  desert  journey  were  not 
lost.  Possibly  we  might  even  be  able  to  reorganize  the  rem- 
nants of  my  shattered  caravan  . 

My  hopes  as  to  the  future  began  to  revive  and  shine  out 
in  rosv  colors.  Uuring  the  morning  I had  been  considering 
the  effects  of  the  shipwreck  of  my  caravan,  and  what  plans  I 
should  adopt  for  the  future,  so  that  my  journey  might  yield 
the  best  results  possible  under  the  circumstances,  I had 
almost  made  up  my  mind  to  accompany  the  first  best  mer- 
ehant  that  went  past  to  Khotan,  and  thence  go  on  to  Kash- 
gar, whence  I could  send  jighits  to  the  first  Russian  telegraph 
station  with  despatches  for  Europe  for  a fresh  stock  of  instru- 
ments and  a fresh  ecpiipment,  and  with  them,  and  what  I 
could  effect  with  the  rest  of  the  capital  I had  left  behind  in 
Kashgar,  I might  travel  to  Lop-nor,  and  thence  return  home 
through  Siberia.  But  now  that  Islam  Bai  was  alive,  and  had 
brought  out  one  of  the  camels,  I felt  certain  we  might  make 
an  attempt  to  recover  the  tent  and  the  stores  we  had  left  in 
it;  so  that,  instead  of  curtailing  my  plans  for  the  future,  I 
began  to  extend  them. 

I therefore  let  the  three  merchants  go  on  their  way,  after 
they  had  given  me  a good  supply  of  wheat  bread,  and  lent 
me  eighteen  silver  tengeh  (about  8j'.).  We  arranged  to  meet 
again  in  Khotan,  and  settle  the  accounts  outstanding  between 
us.  riie  shepherds  were  now  thoroughly  satisfied  of  the  truth 
of  my  story,  and  I dropped  hints  that  their  generous  services 
to  me  should  not  go  unrewarded. 

May  loth.  A strong  northeasterly  gale  loaded  the  atmos- 
jdiere  with  dust.  I lay  and  slept  inside  the  hut  all  day  long, 
d'he  tremendous  irhysical  exertions  I had  undergone  during 
the  last  few  days  of  that  terrible  desert  journey  now  took 


SHKPIIHRDS  OF  THF  K1  lOTAN-1  )ARI A 609 


their  revenge  upon  me.  I felt  tired  to  death,  like  an  invalid 
who  is  convalescent  after  a year’s  illness. 

At  sunset  I was  awakened  by  the  screaming  of  a camel, 
and  hurried  out.  There  came  Ikasi  Akhun,  leading  Ak-tuya, 
the  white  camel,  with  Islam  Hai  and  Kasim  following  behind 
him.  My  e.xcellent  Islam  dung  himself  with  sobs  of  joy  on 
the  ground  before  me,  and  clasped  my  feet  with  his  hands.  I 
at  once  lifted  him  up  and  bade  him  calm  his  emotion.  In 
his  own  mind  he  had  as  little  e.xpccted  to  see  me  as  1 had 
expected  to  see  him. 

The  white  camel  was  laden  with  two  kurchins  (double  wal- 
lets of  canvas).  One  of  them  contained  all  my  instruments 
(e.xccpt  those  for  measuring  altitudes),  my  drawings  and  itin- 
erary notes,  paper,  pens,  and  such  like;  the  other  the  Chinc.se 
silver  money,  the  lantern,  teapot,  cigarettes,  and  several  other 
things.  Moreover,  Islam  had  saved  the  two  Husqvarna  rifles, 
and  brought  them  wrapped  up  in  a felt. 

Islam  ate  a piece  of  bread,  and  rallied  a bit,  and  then  told 
me  his  story.  For  several  hours  after  we  left  him  on  the 
night  of  May  2d,  he  lay  where  he  fell;  but  finally  he  managed 
to  get  up  and  follow  our  trail,  though  very  slowly,  for  the 
four  camels,  which  he  brought  along  with  him,  resisted  being 
urged  along.  Later  on,  in  the  evening  of  May  3d,  he  saw 
the  big  signal-fire,  which  we  made  beside  the  three  poplars; 
but  it  was  a great  way  off.  However,  it  gave  him  fresh  cour- 
age, for  by  it  he  knew,  not  only  that  we  were  alive,  but  that 
we  had  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  forest,  perhaps  discovered 
water.  He  reached  the  three  poplars  on  the  morning  of 
May  4th,  and  observed  the  marks  of  our  abortiv^e  attempt  to 
dig  a well.  But  as  the  day  was  oppressively  hot,  he  stayed 
several  hours  in  the  shade  of  the  poplars.  With  his  axe  he 
blazed  the  bark  of  one  of  the  trees,  and  sucked  out  of  the 
wound  fully  a cupful  of  sap,  which  both  quenched  his  thirst 
and  strengthened  him.  There  he  left  one  camel-load  of  goods. 
On  IMay  5th  he  continued  to  press  on  in  our  footsteps,  and 
on  the  following  day  arrived  at  the  first  dry  river-bed,  where 
he  again  observed  our  unsuccessful  attempt  at  a well.  There 
he  lost  one  of  the  camels,  the  one  which  had  been  freed  from 
!•— 39 


THROUGH  ASIA 


6 lo 

its  load.  The  animal  broke  loose,  and  of  its  own  accord 
went  off  towards  the  east.  Up  to  that  point  Yolldash,  al- 
though dying,  had  dragged  himself  along  after  the  caravan ; 
but  from  that  time  Islam  never  saw  him  again,  and  therefore 
concluded  he  must  be  dead.  On  May  7th  my  riding-camel, 
Boghra,  fell,  and  about  an  hour  later  Nahr  also.  The  latter 
carried  all  the  instruments  for  measuring  altitudes,  cigars,  tea, 
sugar,  candles,  and  some  macaroni.  At  last  Islam  succeeded 
in  reaching  the  river  with  the  white  camel ; but  when  he  saw 
it  was  dry,  he  gave  way  to  despair,  and  deliberately  lay  down 
to  die,  calmly  and  in  peace.  That  was  on  the  morning  of 
May  8th ; and  as  if  by  a miraculous  interposition,  at  noon  on 
that  same  day  the  three  merchants  came  that  way,  saw  him, 
and  gave  him  bread  and  water,  and  he  was  saved.  Shortly 
after  that  he  fell  in  with  Kasim,  who  told  him  that  I had  got 
on  splendidly,  but  that  he  had  not  the  slightest  idea  where  I 
had  gone  to.  Kasim  was  stupid  enough  to  say  he  believed 
I had  gone  to  the  north,  towards  Ak-su  ; but  Islam  was  fort- 
unately sharper  witted,  and  decided  to  look  for  me  towards 
the  south,  in  the  direction  of  Kbotan.  Then  he  met  Pasi 
Akhun,  whom  I had  sent  in  quest  of  him,  and  now  —there  he 
was. 

Thus,  as  will  be  seen,  Islam  Bai  had  acted  like  a hero  ; for 
while  I and  Kasim  thought  only  of  ourselves,  he  had  done 
his  utmost  to  save  that  portion  of  my  belongings  to  which  he 
knew  I attached  the  greatest  value.  He  had  therefore  grad- 
ually transferred  them  all  to  the  back  of  the  white  camel, 
which  still  continued  to  be  the  strongest.  Thanks  to  Islam, 
I was  now  in  a position  to  carry  out  my  journey  as  it  was 
originally  planned.  Two  and  a half  years  later,  after  Islam 
Bai  reached  his  native  town  of  Osh  in  Fergana,  King  Oscar 
rewarded  him  with  a gold  medal. 

I'hat  evening,  round  a big  fire  near  the  shepherd’s  hut,  we 
celebrated  our  escape  from  the  clutches  of  the  desert  in  a 
“sumptuous”  feast.  /\fter  many  “ ifs  ” and  “ buts  ” Pasi  Ak- 
hun allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  to  sell  us  a sheep  for 
thirty-two  tengeh  (about  15^-.).  It  was  at  once  slaughtered. 
I had  a chisslik  (steak)  of  kidneys,  grilled  over  the  glowing 


SI  IKF  HERDS  OF  THE  K HOT  AX-1 ) A REA  6ii 


fire,  while  the  men  boiled  some  of  the  choicer  parts  in  a pot. 
By  this  my  pulse  had  risen  to  sixty.  Hut  it  was  only  three 
days  later,  when  I had  prt)perly  rested  and  recovered,  that  it 
got  up  to  eighty-two. 

May  iith.  d'he  grass  in  that  locality  being  all  finished, 
the  shepherds  proposed  to  move  to  “other  j)astures  green,” 
about  six  miles  down  the  river,  and  on  the  right  bank.  W'e 
loaded  our  belongings  on  .Ak-tuya  and  went  with  them.  We 
pitched  ourcnmj)  on  a little  mound  which  stood  beside  the  river, 
and  was  surrounded  by  thickets  and  kamish,  and  overhung 
by  some  ancient  poplars.  Between  two  of  the  poplars  my  at- 
tendants made  me  a forest  hut,  its  frame  consisting  of  branch- 
es, while  the  walls  and  roof  were  formed  of  boughs  twisted 
and  laced  together.  It  afforded  splendid  protection  against 
the  sun,  and  was  further  sheltered  by  the  adjacent  trees.  The 
ground  inside  was  levelled  and  spread  with  felt  carpets.  The 
sail-cloth  knapsacks,  which  contained  the  pieces  of  Chinese 
silver  money,  were  my  pillow;  a small  wooden  cigarette-box 
served  me  for  table.  My  instruments,  map  portfolios,  drawing- 
books,  and  writing-materials  lay  in  convenient  disorder  at  the 
foot  of  one  of  the  poplars.  Considering  our  circumstances,  I 
could  not  have  wished  things  better.  I was  perfectly  com- 
fortable and  cosey  in  my  forest  hut,  quite  as  comfortable  as  if 
I had  been  in  my  own  study  in  Stockholm. 

Islam  and  Kasim  made  themselves  at  home  beside  the 
usual  fire  underneath  a third  poplar.  The  shepherds  quar- 
tered themselves  with  their  flocks  in  the  reeds  close  by. 
Twice  a day  Pasi  Akhun  brought  me  a bowl  of  rich  milk 
and  a piece  of  maize  bread,  and  I had  sufficient  tobacco  to 
last  a couple  of  weeks.  The  most  consummate  epicure 
never  got  richer  enjoyment  out  of  life  than  I did  during  the 
days  that  followed ; and  yet  my  lonely  life  in  the  forest  bore 
not  a little  resemblance  to  the  existence  which  Robinson 
Crusoe  led  on  his  island. 

May  1 2th.  Shortly  after  one  o’clock  we  perceived  a small 
caravan  approaching  our  camp  from  the  north.  They  were 
advancing  alonsf  the  bed  of  the  river,  but  were  still  a long- 
way  off ; and  we  impatiently  awaited  their  arrival.  Islam  and 


6i2 


THROUGH  ASIA 


Kasim  hastened  down  to  the  riverside,  so  as  to  call  to  them 
and  guide  them  to  the  hut.  They  turned  out  to  be  a party 
of  four  merchants,  belonging  to  Khotan,  who  left  the  town  of 
Kucha  thirteen  days  earlier.  They  had  gone  thither  some 
time  before  with  a supply  of  grapes,  which  they  sold,  and  with 
the  money  the  grapes  fetched  they  had  bought  ten  horses, 
some  donkeys,  and  a cow,  and  were  now  taking  the  animals 
to  Khotan,  where  they  expected  to  make  a good  price  of 
them. 

They  told  me  that  at  Sil,  the  place  where  the  Yarkand- 
daria  was  joined  by  the  Khotan-daria,  the  former  river  con- 
tained so  much  water  that  it  reached  up  to  the  waist  of  a man 
on  horseback.  All  the  way  up  there  were  small  pools  in  the 
bed  of  the  Khotan-daria,  and  failing  them,  it  was  always  easy 
to  get  water  by  digging  a well.  The  summer  flood  was  e.x- 
pected  in  the  beginning  or  middle  of  June;  but  it  would  not 
attain  its  maximum  volume  for  from  one  to  two  months  after 
that. 

We  pounced  upon  these  four  merchants  like  hawks,  and 
in  half  an  hour  bought  from  them  three  first-rate  horses  for 
750  tengeh  (about  ^17  55.),  although  they  had  only  given  600 
tengeh  (about  ^13  15^-.)  for  them  in  Kucha.  Besides  that 
we  also  bought  three  pack-saddles  and  bridles,  a sack  of  maize 
for  the  horses,  a bag  of  wheat  flour  for  ourselves,  a pair  of  boots 
for  Islam,  who  had  gone  barefoot  ever  since  we  left  the  Camp 
of  Death,  a pinch  of  tea,  a kungan  (iron  j^itcher),  and  two  or 
three  porcelain  cups — all  for  sixty-five  tengeh  (less  than  30J.). 
d'his  made  us  independent  of  help  from  Khotan  ; with  the 
horses  and  the  white  camel  we  might  now  try  to  save  the 
loads  of  the  two  camels  which  were  the  last  to  give  up. 

In  the  evening  we  had  a visit  from  two  young  hunters. 
They  were  armed  with  long  guns,  which  they  supported  on  a 
rest  when  they  fired  them.  They  had  only  just  come  to  the 
forests  of  Buksem  in  pursuit  of  deer;  they  wanted  the  antlers 
to  sell  to  the  Chinese,  who  gave  a good  price  for  them  for 
medicinal  purposes.  As  the  young  men  were  intimately  ac- 
cpiainted  with  all  that  region,  I instantly  engaged  them  to  ac- 
company Islam  and  Kasim  in  cpiest  of  the  Camp  of  Death. 


CHAPTKR  L 


A RKsrri-:  party 

May  I 3'ni.  The  four  merchants  continued  their  journey 
towards  Khotan.  The  two  young  hunters  went  off  among  the 
underwoods;  but  after  the  lapse  of  an  hour  returned  with  a 
deer  {do^t^/ic  ov  maral)  which  they  had  shot  the  evening  before. 
It  was  flayed  and  cjuartered,  and  Islam  very  soon  had  an  ex- 
cellent soup  ready,  d'he  deer’s  flesh  was  both  delicate  and 
tasty. 

One  of  the  hunters,  Kasim  .\khun,  told  me  that  the  sand 
in  the  desert,  which  stretched  between  the  Khotan-daria  and 
the  Keri\’a-daria,  was  very  high  ; but  in  crossing  it  you  could 
get  water  by  digging  wells  during  the  first  few  days. 

The  season  was,  however,  already  too  far  advanced,  and  I 
therefore  gave  up  my  original  plan  of  crossing  that  portion  of 
the  desert  as  well. 

During  the  course  of  the  day  the  father  of  the  two  young 
hunters  arrived.  Ahmed  Merghen  (“  Merghen  ” means  “ hunt- 
er") was  a splendid  type  of  the  Central  Asiatic,  tall,  slim,  broad- 
shouldered,  with  a big  nose  and  a pointed  imperial.  He  was 
veiy  friendly,  and  took  a great  interest  in  our  adventures ; 
and  gave  us  valuable  advice  in  our  consultations  for  organiz- 
ing a rescue  party.  Nobody  could  have  been  more  willing 
than  he  was  to  make  a trip  into  the  desert.  He  was  a god- 
send to  us.  He  remembered  having  once  lost  his  way  while 
hunting,  and  then  passed  near  the  three  poplars  where  I and 
Kasim  had  made  our  signal-fire. 

The  morning  was  spent  in  arranging  the  details  of  the  res- 
cue expedition,  and  at  one  o’clock  the  men  set  out  from  our 
camp  in  the  forest.  The  expedition  consisted  of  Islam  Bai, 
Kasim,  Ahmed  Merghen,  and  one  of  his  sons.  They  took  with 


6i4 


THROUGH  ASIA 


them  the  three  horses  and  one  camel,  and,  by  way  of  provi- 
sions, bread,  flour,  mutton,  and  three  kapaks  (gourds)  and  a mesh 
(goat-skin)  filled  with  water.  Just  as  they  were  on  the  point 
of  starting,  Ahmed  advised  me  to  move  out  to  a little  island 
in  the  bed  of  the  river,  for  the  place  where  my  hut  stood 
abounded  in  scorpions.  He  was  right;  for  I afterwards  saw 
several  of  these  unpleasant  creatures.  Their  trail  in  the  sand 
bore  a striking  resemblance  to  a lace  pattern.  But  I liked 
my  forest  hut  so  well,  and  was  so  coseyly  at  home  in  it,  and  be- 
sides it  would  have  been  so  much  trouble  to  flit,  that  I pre- 
ferred to  stay  where  I was  and  defy  the  scorpions. 

The  rescue  party  left  the  camp  at  an  hour  which  would  al- 
low them  to  reach  that  same  evening  the  spot  where  I had 
hung  up  the  spade  for  a sign  - post.  Ahmed  went  on  foot 
with  his  gun  over  his  shoulder;  the  other  three  men  rode  on 
horseback.  It  was  a pleasure  to  see  how  easily  my  new 
friend,  the  hunter,  like  a mighty  Nimrod  or  man  of  the  woods, 
made  his  way  through  the  thick  undergrowth,  sweeping  the 
bushes  aside  and  moving  among  them  with  such  a light  step 
that  he  almost  seemed  to  fly. 

After  they  had  gone,  I was  again  alone  with  the  three 
shepherds,  and  put  on  the  armor  of  patience  for  perhaps  a 
full  week.  The  shepherds’  camp  lay  a few  hundred  paces 
from  my  hut;  but  Pasi  Akhun  agreed  to  sleep  near  me,  so 
as  to  keep  up  the  fire  during  the  night.  He  brought  me 
bread  and  milk  three  times  a day,  and  I could  get  plenty  of 
water  from  a well  in  the  bed  of  the  river. 

.May  14th.  When  I awoke  at  five  o’clock,  the  sky  was 
dark  with  clouds  and  there  was  a thick  mist  and  a fine  driz- 
zling rain.  Although  the  rain  only  lasted  a very  short  space, 
and  scarcely  wetted  the  ground,  it  freshened  the  air — a rare 
and  unexpected  phenomenon  ! .At  seven  I got  up.  But 
during  the  long,  solitary  days  I spent  in  that  forest  hut  I was 
by  no  means  idle.  I elaborated  the  rough  notes  I had  taken 
during  the  later  stages  of  my  desert  journey,  and  plotted 
some  of  my  majjs  of  the  dunes.  Betwcenwhiles  I lay  down 
on  my  “ bed  ” and  read  the  Bible  and  the  Swedish  psalm-book, 
in  which  1 discovered  many  a masterpiece  of  Swedish  j)oetry. 


A RESCUE  PARTY 


big  yellow  scorpion  came  walking  over  my  sleej)ing- 
carpet,  and  when  I molested  him  to  kill  him,  fought  like  a 
mad  thing.  It  now  struck  me  as  little  short  of  wonderful 
that,  while  wandering  about  the  forest  by  myself,  and  sleep- 
ing and  resting  as  I did  at  all  hours  among  the  undergrowth, 
I had  never  disturbed  any  of  these  venomous  animals.  Con- 
sidering the  feeble  state  I was  in,  a sting  might  have  proved 
serious,  for  the  scorpion’s  sting  is  not  to  be  despised. 

1 lalf  a score  of  merchants,  with  a caravan  of  forty  donkeys, 
carrying  raisins  and  kishmish  (currants)  to  .\k-su,  passed  my 
hut,  and  stopped  a moment  to  greet  me.  I bought  a bag  of 
raisins  from  them,  and  the  shepherds  got  a treat. 

'I'hese  merchants  told  me  that  Masar  - tagh  consisted  of 
two  parallel  ridges  running  towards  the  northwest,  but  that 
neither  e.xtended  very  far  into  the  desert.  The  desert  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  ridges  was  said  to  be  extremely  desolate  and 
barren  ; high  sand-dunes  preponderated,  and  there  were  but 
few  patches  of  bare,  hard  ground.  The  name  was  derived 
from  a masar  or  saint’s  tomb,  the  position  of  which  was  indi- 
cated by  tnglis,  or  sticks  with  pieces  of  rag  attached  to  them, 
stuck  in  the  ground  on  a conspicuous  spur  of  the  dunes. 
The  custodian  of  the  shrine  was  a sheikh,  who  generally 
lived  in  Khotan,  but  spent  a small  part  of  the  winter  in  the 
desert.  He  was  rewarded  for  his  services  by  the  contribu- 
tions, amounting  to  200  tengeh  (about  10s.)  a year,  of  the 
owners  of  the  sheep  which  grazed  in  that  region. 

The  following  days  slipped  past  peacefully  and  quietly,  and 
I gradually  recovered  from  the  almost  superhuman  exertions  I 
had  undergone  in  the  desert.  All  the  same,  I had  to  sum- 
mon up  my  patience  ; for  it  did  get  monotonous,  sitting  there 
alone  day  after  day  and  night  after  night  in  my  lonely  hut  in 
the  midst  of  the  forest.  Yet  I had  everything  I wanted.  I 
enjoyed  the  best  of  health,  drank  in  the  forest  air,  and  lis- 
tened with  pleasure  to  the  lisping  murmurs  of  the  northeast- 
erly wind,  as  it  dallied  with  the  leaves  of  the  poplars.  The 
heat  was  never  oppressive  ; for  the  atmosphere  was  gener- 
ally impregnated  with  dust,  and  the  thick  forest  shade  kept 
it  cool.  It  was  as  silent  and  peaceful  around  me  as  on  an 


6i6 


THROUGH  ASIA 


uninhabited  island.  The  only  break  in  the  uniformity  of 
the  day  was  when  Pasi  Akhun  brought  me  my  “ rations,”  or 
came  to  make  up  the  fire.  I used  to  get  up  at  seven  o'clock ; 
but  at  that  hour  the  flocks  were  already  in  the  forest,  grazing, 
and  I found  the  bread  and  the  milk-bowl  standing  by  my 
side. 

It  was  very  strange  that  for  three  days  I travelled  along 
tlie  river-bed  without  seeing  a soul;  whereas  now  caravans 
going  between  Khotan  and  Ak-su  passed  every  day.  As  a 
rule  each  band  of  merchants  came  up  out  of  the  river  to  the 
hut,  and  gave  me  a friendly  greeting.  But,  unfortunately, 
they  never  had  any  other  wares  except  raisins,  felt  carpets, 
wool,  cotton,  and  domestic  animals.  However,  it  was  always 
a pleasure  to  me  to  talk  to  them ; and  they  gave  me  much 
valuable  information  about  the  trading;;  relations  of  East 
Turkestan,  and  about  the  river  Khotan,  and  the  climate  of 
the  region  generally. 

The  news  of  our  journey  and  wonderful  escape  spread  like 
wild-fire  both  up  the  river  to  Khotan  and  down  it  to  Ak-su. 
A merchant  from  the  former  place  told  me  that  we  were  the 
talk  of  the  bazaars,  and  that  our  arrival  was  being  awaited 
with  great  impatience.  I was  growing  very  anxious  to  reach 
Khotan,  as  I intended  staying  there  some  days  to  reorganize 
my  caravan,  so  that  I might  make  a start  for  Northern  Tibet. 

May  15th.  Two  or  three  merchants  coming  from  the 
north  reported  to  me  that  they  had  met  Islam’s  party.  That 
was  at  the  end  of  the  second  day  after  they  started  ; and  they 
intended  resting  one  day,  so  as  to  replenish  their  supplies  of 
water. 

The  next  day  brought  the  bai  who  owned  the  flocks  which 
my  friends  the  shepherds  had  charge  of.  He  came  to  super- 
intend the  shearing  of  the  sheep,  a task  which  is  done  twice 
in  the  year,  in  spring  and  autumn.  The  wool  sold  in  Khotan 
at  five  tengeh  {2s.  3^'.)  for  a charcck  (about  18  pounds  avoir- 
dupois). When  there  is  a good  clip  of  wool,  it  takes  ten  to 
twelve  sheej:>  to  give  a chareck ; but  at  that  season  of  the 
year  the  wool  was  thin,  a good  deal  hax-ing  been  torn  off  by 
the  thorny  bushes  of  the  underwoods,  so  that  it  would  take 


.AM>SCA1’E  ON  HIE  RIOIiT  HANK.  OK  1 1 1 K!  KlIO  TAN-DAKIA 


A RESCUE  PARTY 


619 

fifteen  to  twenty  sheep  to  yield  a chareck.  The  bai  hoped 
to  shear  about  thirty  chareck  altogether,  for  he  had  another 
flock  of  500  sheep  some  distance  higher  up  the  river. 

At  dusk  on  May  21st  Islam  and  the  other  men  returned. 
The  report  they  brought  was  not  very  satisfactory.  They 
had  travelled  due  west  from  the  edge  of  the  forest;  but 
had  not  ventured  to  go  as  far  as  the  place  where  we  left  the 
tent,  because  the  days  were  getting  hotter.  The  only  things 
they  brought  back  with  them  were  those  which  we  left  be- 
hind  under  the  three  poplars,  and  which  were  of  relatively 
little  value.  They  had  been  guided  thither  by  the  dead  body 
of  the  camel  Hoghra,  for  its  pestilential  stench  was  percep- 
tible a Ions:  wav  off.  But  the  most  remarkable  thing  of  all 
was  that  they  did  not  find  the  camel  Nahr,  who  carried  the 
three  aneroids,  the  boiling-point  thermometer,  the  field-glass, 
two  revolvers — one  of  them  a weapon  of  the  pattern  that  is 
used  by  the  officers  of  the  Swedish  army — fifty  cartridges,  200 
cigars,  besides  several  other  things.  They  easily  discovered 
the  place  where  Islam  had  left  the  animal,  because  he  had 
tied  his  girdle  to  a tamarisk  close  by  to  serve  as  a sort  of 
guide-post.  The  tamarisk  was  still  there  on  the  top  of  a 
sand-dune;  but  the  girdle  was  gone.  Instead  of  it  the 
branches  of  the  tree  were  tied  together  with  a piece  of  white 
felt.  Round  about  there  were  footprints  of  a man’s  boots, 
whereas  Islam  had  been  barefooted.  The  camel  and  his 
valuable  load  were  gone.  And  not  only  could  they  not  find 
the  animal,  they  could  not  even  find  a trace  of  him. 

The  question  was,  who  was  this  man  who  had  taken  away 
Islam’s  girdle  and  left  the  felt  rag  in  its  place } I asked  Is- 
lam whether  he  thought  it  could  be  Yollchi,  who  might  have 
revived  after  we  left  the  tent;  but  Islam  pronounced  that  to 
be  impossible,  because  he  had  never  seen  a glimpse  of  the 
man  since  he  left  the  Camp  of  Death.  Was  it  possible  it 
was  either  of  the  three  merchants  who  had  fetched  Islam 
some  water,  and  lent  me  eighteen  tengeh  } No,  for  they  had 
travelled  straight  from  Islam  to  Buksem,  to  look  for  me. 
Besides,  how  would  they  have  been  able  to  find  the  camel } 
We  were  completely  at  a loss ; but  were  unable  to  do  any- 


620 


THROUGH  ASIA 


thing.  If  somebody  had  found  Nahr  alive,  and  had  led  him 
to  the  river,  where  he  could  get  water  and  food,  the  finder, 
whoever  he  was,  if  he  was  an  honest  man,  would  have  brought 
the  animal  to  us.  But  if  he  had  stolen  the  camel,  tos^ether 
with  his  load,  he  must  surely  have  left  a trail  of  some  kind 
behind  him,  and  there  were  only  two  routes  to  choose  be- 
tween: either  he  must  have  "one  northward  to  Ak  - su,  or 
southward  to  Khotan.  But  my  shepherd  friends  always  kept 
a sharp  lookout  upon  the  latter  road,  and  they  had  seen  no 
camel  answering  to  our  description  of  Nahr.  There  only  re- 
mained, therefore,  the  route  to  Ak-su;  and  we  gradually 
became  convinced  that  the  camel  had  been  stolen,  and  his 
trail  deliberately  obliterated. 

Ahmed  Merghen  then  said  he  had  seen  the  trail  of  a camel 
in  the  forest,  and  had  followed  it.  But  it  brought  him  to  the 
young  camel,  which  had  broken  loose  at  the  three  poplars 
and  run  away  into  the  woods  by  himself  without  his  load. 
He  had  evidently  found  water  somewhere,  and  after  his  ten 
or  twelve  days’  free  grazing  in  the  forest  was  in  e.xcellent 
condition.  But  he  had  become  so  shy  that  he  fled  as  though 
he  had  never  seen  a man  before,  and  Ahmed  had  the  great- 
est difficulty  in  catching  him.  I shall  return  to  this  point 
again  later  on,  when  I speak  about  the  wild  camel  of  Central 
Asia. 

It  may  ])ossibly  occasion  surprise  that  I relate  all  this  at 
such  length  and  in  such  detail ; but  I do  it  for  two  reasons. 
In  the  first  place,  in  consequence  of  my  loss  my  plans  were 
entirely  upset  and  altered;  and  in  the  second  place,  these 
events  were  followed  a year  later  by  a highly  dramatic 
sequel. 

My  original  plan  of  travelling  into  Northern  Tibet  was 
completely  knocked  on  the  head.  I had  lost  my  instruments 
for  measuring  altitudes,  and  my  cquij)ment  was  sadly  crippled. 
'I'he  onl}^  course  now  open  to  me  was  to  return  to  Kashgar, 
and  re-cquip  and  repair  my  losses.  Although  it  was  a longer 
road,  I chose  the  route  via  Ak-su.  .And  yet  within  less  than 
a twelvemonth  1 could  not  resist  travelling  in  Marco  Polo's 
footsteps  from  Kashgar  to  Khotan.  But  before  I give  a 


A Rl'SCUK  PAR'I'Y 


621 

brief  account  of  our  return  to  Kashgar,  I should  like  to  say 
a few  words  about  those  portions  of  the  courses  of  the  Yar- 
kand-daria  and  the  Khotan-daria  which  came  under  my  own 
observation. 

A comparison  of  these  two  rivers,  which  flow  pretty  nearly 
parallel  to  one  another,  and  seek  the  same  goal,  shows  that 
they  are  in  more  than  one  respect  dissimilar.  The  Yarkand- 
daria  is  the  most  important  river  in  Hast  Turkestan.  Its 
channel  is  plainly  marked  and  deeply  eroded,  and  it  contains 
water  all  the  year  round;  indeed,  in  the  month  of  June  its 
flood  rises  to  portentous  dimensions.  li.xcept  when  it  is  ice- 
bound in  winter,  the  river  can  only  be  crossed  by  means  of 
ferries.  The  Khotan-daria,  on  the  other  hand,  remains  dry 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  year;  it  is  only  in  the  height 
of  the  summer  that  its  channel  holds  any  quantity  of  water. 
But  it  is  so  broad  and  shallow  that  the  only  place  where  a 
ferry  can  be  used  is  at  Khotan.  The  river  flows  through  the 
worst  .section  of  the  Takla-makan  Desert,  and  has  a far  harder 
ficjht  of  it  with  the  drift-sand  than  its  sister  stream  to  the  west. 
Indeed,  the  sand  is  seriously  threatening  to  choke  it  lijd  and 
cut  it  off  from  the  main  river,  the  Yarkand-daria  or  Tarim, 
which  it  flows  into — a fate  which,  as  we  shall  see  later  on,  has 
already  overtaken  the  Keriya-daria. 

Again,  the  belt  of  forest  which  accompanies  the  Yarkand- 
daria  is  frequently  interrupted  by  steppes  and  marshes; 
whereas  the  Khotan-daria  is  accompanied  by  its  forest-belts 
all  the  way  to  the  confluence  of  the  two  streams,  and  the 
forest  is  thicker  and  altogether  wilder  than  the  forest  of  the 
Yarkand-daria.  The  sand-dunes  nowhere  approach  near  to 
the  banks  of  the  Yarkand  - daria ; but  in  the  case  of  the 
Khotan  - daria  they  stretch  quite  close  up  to  the  western 
forest- belt. 

In  one  respect,  however,  the  two  streams  agree.  Both 
have  shifted  their  channels  towards  the  east,  as  is  proved 
by  the  existence,  in  both  cases  alike,  of  former  river  - beds 
lying  west  of  and  parallel  to  their  present  courses,  whereas 
there  are  no  such  disused  channels  to  the  east  of  them. 
It  is  also  worthy  of  remark  that  the  caravan -roads  which 


622 


THROUGH  ASIA 


run  alongside  both  rivers  keep  to  the  left  bank ; no  doubt 
that  is  the  safer  side  when  the  rivers  are  in  flood.  More- 
over, almost  all  the  towns  along  the  middle  course  of  the 
Yarkand  - daria  are  situated  on  the  left  bank,  and  generally 
at  some  little  distance  from  it.  There  are  no  towns  along 
that  part  of  the  Khotan-daria  which  flows  through  the  forest, 
the  only  inhabitants  in  those  tracts  being  the  nomad  shep- 
herds. The  caravan-road  down  the  Khotan-daria  possesses 
only  a local  importance ; but  between  Maral-bashi  and  Yar- 
kand— that  is,  along  the  middle  portion  of  the  Yarkand-daria 
— runs  one  of  the  chief  commercial  highways  in  the  centre  of 
Asia. 

May  23d.  I was  awakened  at  half-past  three  in  the  morn- 
ing by  a terrific  buran  (hurricane) — a perfect  fury  of  a wind 
— from  the  west.  It  completely  ruined  my  poor  hut,  and 
even  threatened  to  tear  up  the  trees  by  their  roots.  It  roared 
and  whistled  through  the  tops  of  the  poplars,  which,  being 
full  of  leaf,  were  bent  over  parallel  with  the  earth,  threatening 
every  moment  to  snap  in  half.  The  branches,  being  dry, 
cracked  and  broke,  and  were  flung  to  the  ground.  The 
reeds  bowed  in  humiliation  before  the  fierce  tyranny  of  the 
storm.  The  entire  forest  roared  and  thundered,  as  though 
it  were  filled  with  the  noise  of  many  water-falls.  It  was,  more- 
over, choked  with  dense  clouds  of  drift-sand,  which  was  blown 
in  almost  solid  masses  across  the  level  bed  of  the  Khotan- 
daria.  The  hurricane  only  lasted  half  an  hour,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  same  perfect  calm  which  had  preceded  it. 

At  half-past  seven  we  were  all  ready  to  start  from  the  camp 
where  I had  spent  such  a long  time,  although  a time  rich  in 
pleasant  memories.  Indeed,  my  thoughts  often  fly  back,  and 
with  both  gratitude  and  sadness  commingled,  to  the  happy 
days  I spent  beside  the  Khotan-daria.  It  was  there  I got  a 
new  lease  of  life;  it  was  there  I shook  off  mv  feet  the  sand  of 
that  awful  desert;  it  was  there  I once  more  saw  human  l^eings 
like-fashioned  unto  myself,  men  who  received  me  with  kind- 
ness, fed  me,  tended  me.  b'inally,  it  was  there  I enjoyed  a 
beneficial  and  much-needed  rest  in  the  delightfully  cool  air  of 
the  forest.  1 gave  each  of  my  shc]')herd  friends  thirty  tengeh 


A Rl'SCUH  PARTY 


623 


( 1 3.V.  and  they  were  overjoyed.  'I'hen  we  went  on  our 
way,  with  the  two  camels  and  the  three  horses;  and  the  last 
of  the  camels’  bells  once  more  echoed  clear  and  sonorous,  no 
longer  sounding  for  a funeral,  but  ringing  in  a new  life,  with 
new  hopes. 


CHAPTER  LI 


DOWN  THE  KHOTAN-DARIA 

We  did  not  travel  in  one  party,  but  divided.  Islam  Bai 
and  the  two  hunters  travelled  by  the  caravan-road  that  trav- 
ersed the  forest  on  the  left  bank  of  the  stream,  in  order  to 
keep  a lookout  for  the  trail  of  the  missing  camel.  Ahmed 
Merghen  and  I rode  down  the  bed  of  the  river,  and  Kasim 
followed  us  in  charge  of  the  two  camels.  But  as  we  rode 
hard,  we  soon  lost  sight  of  him.  In  the  afternoon  we  came 
to  the  little  pool  which  had  saved  my  life.  There  stood  the 
reed  thicket  as  before,  and  the  poplars  leaned  over  the  water, 
which  had  dropped  nearly  five  inches  since  May  6th.  It  re- 
tained the  same  shape,  however.  There  I rested  a good  hour, 
partly  to  wait  for  Kasim  to  come  up,  but  more  particularly 
that  I might  drink  again  of  that  splendid,  that  glorious  life- 
giving  water.  Ahmed  Merghen  called  the  pool  Khoda-verdi- 
koll,  or  the  “ God-given  lake.” 

After  a ride  of  ten  hours  we  all  met  again  in  the  part  of 
the  forest  called  Kuyundehlik  (the  Place  of  Hares).  Several 
shepherds  were  encamped  there  looking  after  their  flocks. 
Islam  had  not  seen  any  signs  of  the  camel  in  the  forest. 
Even  though  there  had  been  any  trail,  it  would  have  been 
destroyed  by  the  hurricane. 

May  24th.  We  decided  to  rest  a day,  chiefly  in  order  that 
some  of  the  men  might  scour  the  forest,  in  that  part  from 
four  to  eight  miles  wide,  with  their  dogs.  I'ive  shepherds,  in 
charge  of  five  hundred  sheej)  and  sixty  cattle,  had  been  four 
days  at  Kuyundehlik.  It  was  only  a short  two  hours’  jour- 
ney to  the  pool  of  God’s  gift.  Had  I gone  north  on  May 
6th,  instead  of  going  south,  I should  scarcely  have  fallen  in 
with  these  men,  for  at  that  time  they  were  encamped  in 


DOWN  TIIK  KlIOTAN-DARIA 


625 


another  place ; and  it  was  several  days  from  Kuvundehlik  to 
the  next  shepherds’ camp,  near  the  confluence  of  the  Kliotan- 
daria  with  the  Varkand-daria. 

A short  distance  below  the  camj)  of  Kuyundehlik  the 
Khotan-daria  divided  into  two  arms.  The  arm  on  the  west 
was  narrow  and  winding,  and  hence  was  called  the  Inchicke- 
daria,  as  well  as  hidden  in  a thick  wood  ; while  the  right- 
hand  branch  was  broad,  and  entirely  destitute  of  forest  on  its 
eastern  bank.  In  the  height  of  the  summer  both  branches 
are  filled  with  water.  The  latter  washes  the  foot  of  a series 
of  large  sand-dunes  known  as  .Ak-kum  (the  White  Sand). 
I'he  shejiherds  asserted  that  the  Inchicke  - daria  was  only 
formed  about  eight  years  previously.  Hut  the  thick  woods 
proved  conclusively  that  it  was  the  older  channel,  and  that 
the  river  was  gradually  abandoning  it  for  its  more  easterly 
neiu'hbor.  The  absence  of  forest  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
eastern  branch  jiroved  also  that  vegetation  had  not  yet  suc- 
ceeded in  maintaining  its  ground  on  that  side  against  the 
persistent  assaults  of  the  drift -sand.  W’hen  the  Khotan- 
daria  is  in  flood,  caravans  for  Ak-su  travel  along  the  delta  or 
island  between  the  two  branches,  and  consequently  have  to 
cross  them  by  the  fords.  The  distance  between  the  fords  is 
about  two  days’  journey.  During  the  dry  jiortions  of  the 
year  the  pools  in  both  the  main  branch  and  the  Inchicke- 
daria  occur  near  the  right  bank. 

The  district  had  a bad  reputation  for  thieves  and  robbers, 
who  make  a practice  of  plundering  small  and  weak  caravans. 
But  the  new  amban  (Chinese  governor)  of  Khotan  had  started 
a systematic  war  of  extermination  against  the  evil-doers  ; all 
whom  he  caught  were  summarily  beheaded. 

May  25th.  My  excellent  friend  Ahmed  Merghen  returned 
home  to  Tavek-kel,  near  Khotan,  but  left  his  son  Kasim  with 
us.  We  rode  down  the  winding  bed  of  the  Inchicke-daria, 
the  banks  of  which  were  covered  with  young  forest.  Farther 
back  from  the  stream  the  trees  were  much  older,  and  in  many 
places  stood  so  close  together  that  it  was  not  easy  to  pass 
between  them.  The  tendency  of  the  forests  on  both  banks 
is  to  unite  and  form  one  continuous  forest,  and  this  will  no 
I.— 40 


626 


THROUGH  ASIA 


doubt  happen  as  soon  as  the  summer  floods  entirely  desert 
this  channel  for  the  right-hand  branch.  In  fact,  the  Inchicke- 
daria  was  only  forty  or  forty-five  yards  wide  as  it  was.  After 
a long  day’s  ride  we  stopped  for  the  night  beside  a pool  in  the 
bed  of  the  river,  at  a place  called  Bedelik-utak  (the  Clover- 
Field  Lot). 

May  26th.  Kasim,  Ahmed’s  son,  refused  to  go  with  us 
farther  than  one  day’s  journey  from  Kuyundehlik  ; it  was 
dangerous,  both  on  account  of  robbers  and  of  tigers,  to  spend 
the  night  alone  in  the  forest.  I and  my  two  men,  Islam  and 
Kasim,  continued  our  journey  therefore  without  a guide.  As 
the  river  became  more  and  more  sinuous  in  its  course,  we 
resolved  to  strike  farther  into  the  island,  which  consisted  of 
prairies,  interrupted  by  low  dunes  and  small  groves  of  forest 
trees.  But  as  the  river-bed  made  the  more  convenient  road 
to  travel  by,  we  soon  went  back  to  it.  Both  banks  were 
planted  with  luxuriant  woods,  so  that  we  often  seemed  to  be 
journeying  through  a park,  or  rather  a tunnel  of  foliage. 

At  length  we  reached  the  point  where  the  Inchicke-daria 
rejoins  the  Khotan-daria.  The  forest  opened  out  like  a door, 
and  before  us  was  the  level  bed  of  the  Khotan-daria,  lying,  in 
consequence  of  the  more  powerful  erosive  force  of  its  larger 
volume  of  water,  some  five  feet  lower  than  the  bed  of  the 
Inchicke-daria.  We  encamped  a short  distance  below  the 
confluence,  in  a tract  called  Bora-tyshkyn  (Beaten  down  by 
the  Storm).  There  was  a little  island  in  the  river;  but  so 
infested  with  ticks  and  scorpions  that  we  preferred  to  make 
our  fire  for  the  night  in  the  bed  of  the  river,  at  some  distance 
from  the  bank. 

May  27th.  As  is  generally  the  case  in  that  part  of  the 
world  after  a clear  night  and  a west  wind,  followed  by  a calm 
day,  it  was  pretty  warm  on  the  morrow,  and  the  heat  began 
to  make  itself  felt  early  in  the  day.  For  instance,  at  seven 
o’clock  in  the  morning  the  thermometer  registered  76.8° 
Fahr.  (24.9“  C.).  The  hard,  level  river-bed  ran  almost  directly 
due  north,  at  the  same  time  gradually  narrowing  to  a general 
breadth  of  about  half  a mile,  and  winding  in  and  out  round 
projecting  “buttresses  ” of  forest.  It  will,  of  course,  be  readily 


DOWN  'mi<:  K1  lOTAN-DARlA 


627 


understood  that  the  high-summer  flood,  being  si)read  over 
the  wide,  shallow  channel,  is  subject  to  acti\  e evaporation,  so 
that  the  current  necessarily  diminishes  in  volume  the  farther 
it  advances  towards  the  north. 

Again  the  river  divided  into  two  branches — the  Yanghi- 
daria  (New  River)  on  the  left  and  the  Rovneh-daria  (Old 
River)  on  the  right.  We  travelled  down  the  former,  and  met 
a large  donkey-caravan  laden  with  groceries  from  .\k-su,  from 
which  place  they  started  eight  days  before.  The  Kovneh- 
daria  was  shut  in  on  both  sides  by  sand-dunes  exclusively. 
Despite  its  name,  it  is  probably  the  newer  channel,  seeing 
that  the  forest  trees  have  not  succeeded  in  establishing  them- 
selves along  its  banks.  The  result  of  my  observations  upoti 
the  tendency  of  the  Khotan-daria  to  shift  its  channel  towards 
the  east  goes  to  show  that  it  does  not  do  this  regularly  and 
conformably  throughout  the  whole  of  its  course,  but  does  it 
piecemeal,  a portion  at  a time.  The  river-bed  gets  choked 
up  here  and  there  with  the  alluvial  detritus  brought  down  by 
the  current.  In  every  place  where  this  happens  the  stream 
gradually  rises  above  the  general  level  of  the  adjacent  land, 
and  seeks  a new  passage  towards  the  east. 

In  the  evening  we  came  upon  a large  pool,  some  500 
square  yards  in  area,  the  largest  I had  hitherto  seen.  \\T 
made  our  fire  on  a hill  overhanging  the  river,  and  from  our 
camp  obtained  an  extensive  view  of  the  surrounding  country. 
In  this  place  the  current  had  delved  a deep  trench  close 
under  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  in  which  in  the  course  of 
the  next  day's  journey  we  found  a string  of  small  pools. 
Upon  bathing  in  the  large  pool  I discovered  that  it  was 
deep,  for  I was  unable  to  reach  the  bottom. 

May  28th.  During  the  course  of  this  day’s  march  the 
river-bed  gradually  became  wider.  As  a general  rule,  where 
the  channel  is  broad  and  level,  there  are  no  pools,  and  the 
trenches  made  by  the  last  season’s  floods  are  scarcely  dis- 
cernible ; but  where  it  is  narrow  there  exist  numerous  pools, 
and  the  trenches  made  by  the  current  are  plainly  marked  in 
serpentine  curves.  I also  observed  that  the  forest  was  appre- 
ciably thinner  on  the  right  bank  than  on  the  left ; in  fact,  in 


628 


THROUGH  ASIA 


many  parts  it  ceased  altogether,  its  place  being  taken  by 
bare  sand-dunes.  Close  under  the  western  bank  the  river- 
bed itself  was  occasionally  overgrown  with  grass ; but  that 
was  never  the  case  alono;  the  ri^ht-hand  side  of  the  river. 
Everything  tended  to  show  that  the  current  flows  stronger 
on  the  right  or  eastern  side  than  it  does  on  the  left  or  west- 
ern. But  in  any  case  the  movement  of  the  current  towards 
the  east  takes  place  at  such  a slow  rate  that  the  afforestation 
of  its  banks  is  enabled  to  keep  pace  with  it.  A few  isolated 
poplars,  like  those  near  which  we  made  our  signal -fire  on 
May  3d,  still  maintained  a precarious  e.xistence  on  the  west 
side  of  the  stream ; but  they  are  doomed  to  perish. 

At  si.\  o’clock  we  were  still  riding  along  the  river-bed; 
Islam  Bai  had  gone  on  in  advance  to  seek  out  a convenient 
spot  for  camping  on,  when  all  at  once  the  whole  of  the  west 
became  enshrouded  in  a dark,  yellowish-gray  cloud.  At  first 
it  looked  like  a low  wall ; then  it  rapidly  mounted  higher, 
till  it  reached  half  way  to  the  zenith;  and  then  the  next  mo- 
ment it  was  directly  over  our  heads.  The  sun  faded  to  a 
pale  lemon  disk;  then  totally  vanished.  A distant  murmur 
arose  along  the  border  of  the  forest.  It  approached  rapidly 
nearer.  We  heard  the  twigs  and  branches  snapping  off  with 
a louder  and  louder  echo.  Towards  the  northwest  the  forest 
was  enveloped  in  haze.  Columns  of  sand  and  dust  came 
spinning  across  the  river-bed  like  theatrical  wing-scenes  mov- 
ing on  invisible  rollers,  alternately  shooting  on  in  advance  of 
each  other;  and  in  a moment  the  forest  was  entirely  blotted 
out.  The  first  outfliers  of  the  storm  burst  upon  us ; the  black 
buran  followed  close  at  their  heels,  striking  us  with  terrific 
violence,  swallowing  us  up  in  its  impenetrable  clouds  of  dust. 
The  sand  was  swept  along  in  eddying  sheets  which  trailed 
along  the  ground,  putting  me  in  mind  of  comets’  tails, 
'brack,  trenches,  storm -driv'en  boughs- — nothing  was  to  be 
seen.  In  such  a storm  as  that  your  head  goes  round;  you 
imagine  the  earth,  the  atmosphere,  everything  is  in  commo- 
tion; you  are  oi)])ressed  by  a feeling  of  anxiety  lest  the  next 
moment  you  yourself  should  be  caught  up  in  the  frenzied  em- 
brace of  the  wind.  It  turned  as  dark  as  midnight,  and  for 


AITACKKI)  HV  A SAND-STORM  IN  THE  BED  OF  THE  KIIOTAN-DARIA 


DOWN  THE  KlIOTAN-DARIA 


631 

some  time  we  dare  not  move  a step  from  the  spot  where  we 
stood.  The  instant  the  storm  burst  Islam  was  lost  to  sight; 
and  it  was  only  by  the  merest  chance  that  we  came  together 
again.  He  just  saw  the  ditn  outline  of  the  caravan,  like  some 
huge  monster,  slowly  crawling  through  the  haze. 

Seeing  that  the  storm — one  of  the  worst  we  had  experienced 
— showed  signs  of  lasting  some  time,  we  cautiously  piloted 
our  way  to  the  river -bank,  and  sought  shelter  behind  the 
thick  brushwood  in  the  heart  of  the  forest.  There  we  de- 
cided to  encamp  for  the  night.  We  afterwards  dug  a well  in 
a depression  of  the  river,  and  reached  water  after  a few  spades’ 
depths.  .As  soon  as  it  grew  dark  (night),  the  men  set  fire  to 
the  undergrowth  on  the  lee  side  of  our  camjj.  The  flames, 
fanned  by  the  gale,  spread  with  i)ortentous  rapidity,  giving 
rise  to  a magnificent,  but  wild,  spectacle. 

May  29th.  The  storm  still  continued.  The  air  was  so 
densely  charged  with  dust  that  we  saw  but  little  of  our  sur- 
roundings. Fortunately  we  were  able  to  get  along  by  keep- 
ing close  to  the  left  side  of  the  river-bed,  and  in  that  way 
chanced  to  stumble  on  a sign-post,  consisting  of  a pole  with 
a horse’s  skull  on  the  top,  fixed  in  a poplar  tree.  Upon  go- 
ing up  to  examine  it  more  closely  I discovered  a path  lead- 
ing into  the  forest,  a path  which  I took  for  granted  went  to 
Ak  - su.  We  decided  to  follow  it.  It  led  us  towards  the 
northwest,  along  a plainly  marked  river-bed,  now  dry  and  in 
part  sanded  up,  and  shut  in  by  sand-dunes,  poplar  holts,  and 
bushes.  In  all  probability  it  was  a former  arm  of  the  delta 
of  the  Khotan-daria.  At  intervals,  as  the  road  crossed  sev- 
eral belts  of  barren  sand,  the  caravan-leaders  had  erected  poles 
and  gallows-like  arrangements  to  serve  as  sign-posts. 

That  afternoon  we  encamped  near  some  shepherds  from 
Ak-su,  who  were  comfortably  installed  in  the  forest  in  huts 
made  of  stakes  and  reeds.  At  first  they  regarded  us  with 
some  suspicion  ; but  soon  gained  confidence,  and  offered  us 
bread,  milk,  and  eggs.  They  lived  with  their  flocks  in  the 
woods  all  the  year  round. 

The  A^arkand  - daria,  which  we  now  saw  a short  distance 
ahead  of  us,  is  generally  ice-bound  for  about  four  months  in 


THROUGH  ASIA 


632 

the  year.  The  shepherds  said  they  expected  the  summer  floods 
in  about  three  weeks,  and  would  then  be  driven  by  the  over- 
flowing of  the  river  higlier  up  into  the  forests.  Just  at  that 
time,  however,  the  river  was  at  its  lowest  level.  The  next 
day  we  crossed  the  stream  at  a well-known  ford.  Its  breadth 
was  eighty-five  yards,  its  greatest  depth  i .1  feet,  and  its  volume 
265  cubic  feet  in  the  second. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  we  continued  on  towards  the 
north  by  a path  which  led  to  the  town  of  Avvat  (Abad),  mean- 
ing “populous,”  through  a district  that  was  in  very  ill  repute 
on  account  of  highway-robbers  and  stealers  of  live-stock.  The 
road  lay  sometimes  through  tangled  underwoods  and  thorny 
bushes,  sometimes  through  kamish  (reed)  beds  and  open 
steppes,  sometimes  past  shepherds’  camps  and  small  villages, 
now  close  alongside  the  right  bank,  of  the  Ak-su-daria,  now 
at  some  distance  from  it. 

May  31st.  Towards  evening  we  approached  the  bazaars 
of  Avvat,  a place  of  about  a thousand  houses,  with  a beg,  a 
Chinese  tax  collector,  and  a Hindu  trader,  Parman,  who  hos- 
pitably placed  a comfortable  serai  (guest-house)  at  my  disposal. 
All  the  same  he  was  an  arrant  rogue.  He  loaned  money 
to  the  peasantry  at  usurious  rates  of  interest,  and  whenever 
they  were  unable  to  pay  what  they  owed  him  took  from  them 
their  wheat  and  maize  and  wool.  The  wool  he  sold  in  Hi 
(Kulja),  the  corn  in  the  neighboring  towns  and  villages.  He 
confessed  to  me  that  he  laid  by  15,000  (Kashgar)  tengeh 
(about  £i’Jo)  every  year.  The  principal  products  of  the  dis- 
trict are  rice,  wheat,  maize,  and  cotton.  The  little  town  stands 
on  a branch  of  the  Ak-su-daria,  called  the  Kovneh-daria ; it  is 
crossed  by  a bridge  which  leads  straight  into  the  main  street 
of  the  town. 

June  ist.  We  rode  the  whole  of  the  day  through  one  con- 
tinuous street,  with  canals  on  both  sides  of  it,  and  shaded  by 
avenues  of  trees,  among  which  mulberries  and  willows  pre- 
dominated. The  next  day,  at  a place  called  Besh-arik-ustang 
(the  Channel  of  the  P'ive  Branches),  we  came  out  u])on  the 
great  highway  which  runs  to  Kashgar,  and  also  crosses  the 
Ak-su-daria  to  Yanghi-shahr  (the  New  Town),  a place  en- 


DOW  N TllK  KIIOTAN-DARIA 


633 


closed  within  the  walls  of  a Chinese  fortress.  Immediately 
we  arrived  I sent  a man  with  my  passport  and  Chinese  call- 
ing-card to  the  1 )ao  d'ai,  or  chief  officer  of  the  district;  but 
received  back  an  indefinite  sort  of  answer.  .Accordingly  I 
did  not  take  the  trouble  to  call  upon  “ His  bAcellency,”  a man 
who  was  notorious  for  his  arrogance  and  drunken  habits. 

June  3d.  W’e  were  now  only  a short  distance  from  the 
Mohammedan  town  of  .Ak-su.  Upon  arrixing  there  I was 
received  with  marked  friendliness  by  Mohammed  Emin,  the 
aksakal  (white-beard),  or  head  of  the  W’est  Turkestan  mer- 
chants. He  lodged  me  in  his  own  good  and  comfortable 
house,  sending  the  camels  and  horses  to  a neighboring  cara- 
vanserai. 

June  4th.  During  the  past  three  days  the  white  camel 
had  [)ined  away,  refusing  to  eat  grass  or  anything  except  a 
few  broken  fragments  of  wheat  bread.  On  June  3d  he  had 
walked  the  short  distance  from  the  New  to  the  Old  d own 
without  stopping;  but  every  time  anybody  went  near  him  he 
screamed  out  in  a tone  of  suffering,  as  though  he  were  afraid 
he  was  i^oinej  to  be  hurt.  At  night  he  ate  nothing;  and  next 
morning  Kasim  came  with  a concerned  countenance  to  tell 
me  that  Ak-tuya  was  very  ill.  I hastened  to  the  court-yard 
and  found  him  lying  on  his  side,  with  his  legs  doubled  under 
him  and  his  neck  stretched  out  along  the  ground.  He  was 
breathing  heavily;  and,  after  one  or  two  long-drawn  breaths, 
he  died. 

This  was  the  camel  on  which  Islam  had  saved  my  diaries, 
maps,  instruments,  and  other  things  which  I set  the  greatest 
store  by.  Naturally,  therefore,  I felt  sorry  to  lose  the  poor 
beast,  which  had  rendered  me  such  a signal  service.  All  the 
way  down  the  Khotan-daria  I went  to  him  at  every  place  where 
we  encamped  and  clapped  him;  but  he  always  turned  away 
his  head  and  screamed,  as  though  I were  going  to  pull  at  his 
nose-rope.  It  seemed  as  though  he  knew  I was  the  cause  of 
the  suffering  he  had  endured.  On  the  morning  he  died — 
the  morning  of  the  Feast  of  Mairam — it  was  still  and  quiet 
in  the  caravanserai  court-yard.  On  that  day  no  caravan  came 
in,  no  caravan  went  out;  ordinary  work  of  every  sort  and 


634 


THROUGH  ASIA 


kind  was  entirely  suspended.  Everybody  was  out-of-doors. 
The  streets,  the  bazaars  were  gay  with  new  khalats  (coats)  in 
the  brightest  and  most  variegated  hues,  new  caps  (calottes) 
in  glowing  colors,  and  snow-white  turbans.  Every  person 
looked  happy  and  contented.  On  this  day  the  meanest  ser- 
vant is  greeted  with  a ''Aid  mubarek T (A  happy  holiday  to 
you !)  by  his  master,  and  from  the  windows  of  the  minarets 
the  muezzin’s  voice,  uplifted  in  prayer  and  praise  of  the 
Almighty,  sounds  clearer  and  more  musical  than  usual. 
What  a contrast  between  the  silent  court-yard,  where  my 
dead  camel  lay,  and  this  richly  varied  picture  of  life  and  hap- 
piness, every  face  beaming  with  delight  on  this  the  greatest 
Mohammedan  holiday  of  the  year ! As  it  happened,  in  the 
year  of  our  visit  to  Ak-su,  the  Feast  of  Mairam  fell  on  Whit- 
Tuesday.  Mohammed  Emin  was  going  to  sell  the  two 
camels  for  me  on  the  following  day.  The  money  value  of 
the  dead  animal  was  a mere  trifle ; besides,  by  this  I had 
become  accustomed  to  losing  camels ! But  this  poor  beast 
had  been  the  means  of  saving  my  sketches  and  diaries,  and 
my  purse  for  defraying  the  expenses  of  the  summer ; and  I 
felt  as  if  I had  lost  a faithful  friend,  a friend  in  whose  fidelity 
I could  trust  implicitly,  who  had  sacrificed  his  strength  and 
finally  his  life  to  help  me  out  of  an  awkward  predicament. 

His  travelling  companion,  the  young  camel  Chong-sarik, 
a giant  of  his  kind,  which  Ahmed  the  Hunter  had  caught  in 
the  forest,  left  his  manger  and  walked  across  to  the  white 
camel,  and  regarded  him  attentively  with  a look  of  wonder- 
ment. Then  he  quietly  walked  back  to  his  manger,  and 
with  an  unimpaired  appetite  went  on  munching  the  green, 
sappy  grass  with  which  it  was  filled.  He  was  the  last  of  the 
eight.  I had  not  the  heart  to  sell  him  without  knowing  into 
whose  hands  he  would  fall.  The  custodian  of  the  serai  was 
of  opinion  that  he,  too,  would  soon  succumb  to  the  hardships 
and  privations  he  had  undergone.  Finally  I gave  him  as  a 
present  to  Mohammed  Emin,  on  condition  that  he  should  be 
allowed  to  graze  all  summer  on  the  fat  meadows  at  the  foot 
of  the  I'engri-khan. 


CII  APTHR  LI  I 


FROM  AK-SU  'I'O  KASHGAR 

W’l-:  stayed  three  days  in  Ak-su  in  order  to  organize  a 
temporary  caravan  for  the  return  journey  to  Kashgar,  the 
centre  and  base  of  my  exploring  journeys  in  Central  .Asia, 
riius  I had  an  opj)ortunity,  though  it  must  be  confessed  a 
brief  one,  of  seeing  something  of  the  town  of  the  W hite 
W'ater  (Ak-su),  so  called  because  of  the  abundance  of  clear, 
fresh  water  which  pours  through  it  from  the  eternal  snow- 
fields  and  glaciers.  The  town  occupies  a favorable  jjosition 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Ak-su-daria.  In  summer  emnanous 
quantities  of  water  roll  down  the  river.  In  winter  there  is 
but  a fraction  of  it  left,  and  the  little  there  is  freezes.  A 
short  distance  below  the  town  the  river  divides  into  two 
branches,  the  Vanghi-daria  and  the  Kovneh-daria ; but  they 
reunite  before  they  join  the  main  stream,  the  Yarkand-daria, 
or  Tarim.  Immediately  on  the  east  the  town  is  overlooked 
by  a terrace  of  conglomerate  and  loess  strata,  which  rises  to 
a perpendicular  height  of  150  or  160  feet,  and  has  been 
carved  out  and  shaped  by  the  river  floods,  . On  all  other 
sides  the  town  is  surrounded  by  numerous  villages,  fertile 
fields  and  meadows,  splendid  orchards,  and  brimming  irriga- 
tion canals.  Rice,  wheat,  maize,  barley,  cotton,  opium,  and 
a vast  quantity  of  garden  produce  are  grown  with  signal  suc- 
cess. Ak-su,  with  its  15,000  inhabitants,  is  only  half  as  big 
as  Kashgar;  nevertheless,  in  respect  of  its  agricultural  pro- 
ducts it  ranks  considerably  higher.  The  keeping  of  sheep, 
which  graze,  as  I have  said,  along  the  banks  of  the  two  large 
rivers,  is  likewise  a flourishing  industry. 

Ak-su  possesses  a mixed  population  of  divers  races.  Among 
others  I noticed  a great  number  of  Chinese,  a hundred  or  so 


THROUGH  ASIA 


636 

of  Andijanliks  (people  of  Andijan),  or  merchants  from  Rus- 
sian Turkestan,  besides  three  Afghans,  who  have  paid  peri- 
odical visits  to  Ak-su  for  a space  of  over  twenty  years. 
Mohammed  Emin,  the  aksakal,  or  head  of  the  Russian  sub- 
jects trading  to  the  town,  was  a Tashkendlik — i.e.,  a man  of 
Tashkend — and  had  been  domiciled  in  Ak-su  for  a dozen 
years.  The  Andijan  merchants  trade  principally  in  wool, 
cotton,  and  hides.  Of  the  last  - named  commodity  some 
30,000  are  sent  every  year  to  Tashkend  on  the  backs  of 
camels,  via  the  pass  of  Bedel,  Kara-kol  (Przhevalsk),  Pishpek, 


MOSQUE  AT  AK-SU 


and  Auliehata.  The  caravans  only  travel  during  the  winter. 
All  the  hot  months  of  the  year  the  camels  run  at  pasture  on 
the  grassy  slopes  of  the  mountains  near  the  town.  More- 
over, all  communications  are  greatly  hampered  during  the 
summer  by  the  high  state  of  the  water  in  the  swollen  rivers. 

Ci)f  “lions”  that  would  repay  a visit  there  were  scarce  any. 
The  chief  mosque,  which,  as  usual,  was  called  the  Me.sjid-i- 
Juma,  or  Friday  Mosque,  was  not  particularly  remarkable, 
except  that  it  occuj)ied  a picturesque  situation  on  one  side 
of  a small  open  square,  which  communicated  with  the  princi- 
pal bazaar  through  a side  lane.  The  square,  called  Righistan, 
is  the  centre  of  the  life  of  Ak-su.  On  market  days  it  is 
jDacked  with  peojjle,  and  all  sorts  of  commodities  are  offered 


!A/A.\K  IN  CKNTKAI,  ASIATIC  TOWN 


FROM  AK-Si:  ro  KASHCiAR 


639 


for  sale  on  a multitude  of  little  stalls.  Lumps  of  ice,  col- 
lected ill  winter  and  preserved  in  subterranean  cellars,  are 
an  important  commodity  during  the  hot  season,  and  one  that 
I personally  enjoyed  in  liberal  measure.  In  the  princijial 
bazaar  there  are  two  theological  colleges,  the  Kok-madrasa 
(the  Blue  College)  and  the  Ak-madrasa  (the  W hite  College), 
d'heir  facades  are  plain,  with  poor  earthen-ware  decorations, 
nor  can  their  balconies  or  cloisters  boast  of  any  architectural 
merit.  The  mollahs,  or  theological  students,  live  in  cells 
opening  out  upon  the  court-yard.  Some  of  the  students  had 
previously  studied  five,  and  even  ten,  years  at  the  theological 
college  of  Mir-arab,  in  Bokhara.  The  Chinese  have  two 
lanzas  (a  lanza  consists  of  not  quite  one  hundred  men)  at 
\"anghi  - shahr.  They  maintain  a larger  garrison  at  Utch- 
turfan,  which  commands  the  Bedal  pass  over  the  Tianshan 
mountains  into  Russian  Turkestan. 

All  over  the  Mohammedan  world  it  is  customary  to  cele- 
brate the  first  few  days  of  the  F'east  of  Mairam  by  a great 
number  of  gala  dinners,  at  which  incredible  quantities  of  ash 
(pillau  or  rice  pudding)  and  shorpa  (soup  made  of  green  vege- 
tables and  macaroni)  are  consumed.  Some  of  these  feasts  I 
shared  in  company  with  the  aksakal,  Mohammed  Emin.  But 
the  best  entertainment  of  all  was  that  to  which  the  aksakal 
invited  me,  and  at  which  I was  the  only  guest.  WT  rode 
out  to  his  garden,  Sokha-bashi,  situated  about  two  miles  from 
the  bazaar.  There  a couple  of  gardeners  live  all  the  year 
round,  and  occupy  themselves  with  the  cultivation  of  grapes, 
apricots,  melons,  plums,  cherries,  and  vegetables.  We  took 
our  places  underneath  a leafy  mulberry-tree,  beside  a canal 
filled  with  clear  crystal  water.  A sheep  was  killed,  and  with 
his  own  hands  the  aksakal  prepared  an  ash  or  pillau  accord- 
ing to  the  most  approved  recipe  of  the  culinary  art.  You 
take  the  best  pieces  of  the  meat,  especially  the  breast  and 
the  kidneys,  cut  them  up  fine,  fry  them  in  butter  in  a pan 
over  the  fire,  thereafter  fill  the  pan  with  well-washed,  pure 
white  rice,  and  add  onions  to  flavor.  This  dish,  when  prop- 
erly prepared,  is  excellent. 

An  aksakal  is  a sort  of  consular  agent.  The  subjects  of 


640 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  Russian  empire  have  their  aksakal  in  each  of  the  larger 
towns  of  East  Turkestan.  All  these  officers  were  subordi- 
nate to  Consul-General  Petrovsky  in  Kashgar,  My  friend, 
Mohammed  Pimin,  the  aksakal  in  Ak-su,  was  one  of  the  best 
Mohammedans  I have  met,  a cheerful  and  worthy  man 
of  about  sixty,  with  a white  beard ; he  had  an  intimate 


SHOP  IX  A IJAZAAR 

knowledge  of  East  Turkestan,  and  was  able  to  ijive  me  much 
valuable  information,  liven  before  I reached  the  town  he 
had  done  me  a service.  He  made  inquiries  on  all  the  roads 
leading  into  Ak-su  from  the  south  after  the  thief  who  had,  as 
we  suspected,  stolen  the  camel  we  lost;  though  without  any 
result.  Now  he  did  me  an  even  greater  service.  He  de- 
clared his  willingness  to  accompany  me  to  Kashgar,  a road 
he  had  travelled  scores  of  times.  I was  very  glad  of  this,  for 
I knew  he  would  be  excellent  comj)an\'.  He  was  quitting 
his  post  without  permission,  but  for  that  I took  it  upon  my- 
self to  answer  to  Mr.  Petrovsky  for  him. 

We  had  a journey  of  270  miles  before  us  to  Kashgar;  but 


FROM  AK-SU  TO  KASHCiAR 


641 


we  were  in  no  hurry,  and  resoKed  to  take  things  easy.  By 
June  7th  all  was  ready  for  a start.  Mohammed  Emin  pro- 
cured me  some  yal:/ihi7is  (boxes),  and  ])ro\  ided  the  need- 
ful provisions,  such  as  sugar,  tea,  rice,  vegetables,  honey,  and 
so  forth.  Mutton  we  should  be  able  to  buy  everywhere  along 
the  road.  I gave  Islam  Hai  and  Kasim  a gratuity  each  for 
their  faithful  services,  as  well  as  dressed  them  out  from  toj) 
to  toe  in  good  new  clothes.  I had  lost  all  my  clothes,  and 
bought  myself  a costume  which  was  half  Chinese,  half  Sart. 


STREET  IX  A TOWX  OF  CENTRAL  ASIA 

This  was  the  only  occasion  during  my  travels  that  I deprived 
myself  of  the  prestige  and  respect  which  the  hAiropean  dress 
always  inspires. 

We  hired  four  horses  from  a karakesh  (owner  of  caravan 
animals),  paying  fifty-five  tengeh  ( i is.  6d.)  for  each  horse  all 
the  way  to  Kashgar.  We  left  Ak-su  at  five  o’clock  in  the 
afternoon  ; but  that  day  we  only  rode  a couple  of  hours.  Our 
first  stop  was  at  the  caravanserai  of  Langar.  We  travelled 
that  short  stretch  down  a continuous  avenue  bordered  with 
rice-fields  under  water,  cultivated  fields,  gardens,  and  houses, 
and  encamped  on  a piece  of  meadow  in  a fine  grove  of  pop- 
lars. Ten  years  before  that  Mohammed  Emin  had  rested  in 
the  same  spot  with  Przhevalsky,  who  was  then  on  his  way 
I.-41 


642 


THROUGH  ASIA 


home  from  his  fourth  journey.  Afar  off  in  the  north  through 
the  light  dust -haze  we  caught  a glimpse  of  the  glittering 
white  peak  of  Tengri-khan,  towering  up  to  24,000  feet;  but 
it  was  soon  env^eloped  in  the  shades  of  night,  and  so  disap- 
peared from  our  view. 

On  June  8th  we  crossed  the  Kum-daria  (Sand  River),  the 
name  generally  given  to  the  Ak-su  in  that  part  of  its  course. 
The  river  was  split  into  a number  of  branches,  and  the  cross- 
ing was  beset  with  no  particular  difficulties.  A few  days 
after  that  the  ferry  would  come  into  use;  but  five  weeks 
later,  when  the  river  would  be  in  full  hood,  even  the  ferry 
would  be  useless,  and  for  some  time  all  communication  be- 
tween the  opposite  banks  would  be  interrupted.  Every  year 
an  average  of  half  a dozen  men  lose  their  lives  through  at- 
tempting to  ride  across  the  river  when  the  current  is  too 
powerful. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  we  met  a caravan  of  some 
two  hundred  horses  and  oxen  ; each  animal  was  dragging 
after  it  on  the  ground  two  long  beams  of  poplar  wood  [terek). 
The  aksakal  told  me  that  a large  dam  or  jetty  was  being 
built  fifteen  miles  above  the  town,  along  the  left  bank  of  the 
Ak-su-daria,  and  that  no  less  than  three  thousand  men  were 
engaged  upon  the  work.  The  object  of  the  dam,  which  is 
reconstructed  every  year,  was  to  prevent  the  flood  from  do- 
ing injury  to  the  terrace  of  conglomerate,  and  so  eventually 
sweeping  away  both  the  Old  and  the  New  Town,  and  to 
force  it  over  to  the  opposite  or  right  bank.  Thus  the  Ak-su- 
daria,  which  at  that  point  flows  south,  also  tends  towards  a 
more  easterly  course. 

Four  and  a half  hours  later  we  rode  across  the  Taushkan- 
daria  (Hare  River),  the  sister  stream  of  the  .\k-su-daria.  It 
was  much  more  difficult  to  cross,  on  account  of  the  water 
flowing  in  a confined  channel.  W e accordingly  hired  two 
suchis  (water-men),  who,  being  naked,  carefully  led  the  horses 
across  the  stony  river-bed. 

June  9th.  We  reached  the  little  town  of  Utch-turfan, 
which  owes  such  importance  as  it  j)ossesscs  solely  to  its  posi- 
tion as  a sort  of  half  - way  house  between  .\k-su  and  the 


FROM  AK-SU  TO  KASIKiAR 


643 


frontier  of  Asiatic  Russia,  and  on  the  road  by  which  the  wool, 
cotton,  felts,  carpets,  hides,  etc.,  of  l‘iast  'I'lirkestan  are  ex- 
ported. d'hcre  were  some  eighty  prosperous  .Andijan  (/>., 
West  'Furkestan)  traders  established  there,  likewise  under 
the  authority  of  my  friend  Mohammed  Fimin.  'Fhe  town 
stands  in  the  midst  of  fertile,  well-cultivated  fields,  irrigated 
from  the  Taushkan  - daria. 

In  the  far  distance  we  saw 
the  snow-white  bastions  of 
the  ureat  Tian-shan  moun- 
tains,  and  nearer  at  hand 
some  ranges  of  low  hills. 

'Fhe  Chinese  amban  ("ov- 
ernor)  of  Utch-turfan,  'Fso 
Daloi,  received  me  with 
great  politeness  and  in- 
\ ited  me  to  dine  with  him. 

Me  was  formerly  stationed 
in  Tarbagatai,  in  Dzunga- 
ria, where  he  had  come  a 
good  deal  into  contact  with 
the  Russians. 

.After  resting  a day.  we 
left  Utch-turfan  on  June  / 
iith,  escorted  by  the  en- 
tire colony  of  Andijan  mer-  MOHAM>rED  EMIN 

chants  wearing  their  best 

khalats  (coats).  Our  gayly  dressed  cavalcade  excited  not 
a little  attention  in  every  place  we  passed  through.  But 
at  Sughetlik  (Willow  Village),  where  we  were  again  of- 
fered tea  and  refreshments,  our  friends  turned  back.  \\T 
went  on  to  Ott-bashi  (the  Beginning  of  the  Pasture  Grounds) 
and  encamped  there  in  a park. 

The  next  day  we  reached  the  kishlak,  or  winter  village,  of 
Bash-akhma  (the  River  Source),  and  made  our  camp  in  a large 
Kirghiz  aul  consisting  of  nineteen  uy  (tents).  The  Kirghiz 
generally  spend  their  summer  there  as  well,  for  they  are  half- 
agriculturists, growing  wheat,  barley,  and  opium,  although 


644 


THROUGH  ASIA 


they  continue  to  live  in  their  kara-uy  (black  tents).  A few  of 
them,  however,  have  taken  to  clay  cabins.  They  only  sow 
the  ground  every  other  year,  letting  it  rest  and  recover  during 
the  intervening  years  ; hence  it  would  be  more  strictly  correct 
to  call  them  agriculturists-every-second-year.  They  possess 
also  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats.  The  Kirghiz,  who  devote 
themselves  entirely  to  the  keeping  of  live-stock,  spend  the 
summer  in  the  mountains,  and  only  come  down  into  the  val- 


CROWD  .\T  THE  ENTR.WCE  OF  .\  B.\Z.\.\R 

ley  of  the  Taushkan-daria  for  the  winter.  There  are  seven 
septs,  or  families,  represented  in  the  district;  but  all  obey  one 
bi,  or  chieftain. 

But  I will  curtail  my  account  of  this  journey  by  hurrying 
over  the  next  eight  days.  We  travelled  up  the  valley  of  the 
Taushkan-daria,  crossed  the  ranges  of  low  hills  which  shut  in 
the  valley  on  the  south,  and  then  continued  in  a southwester- 
ly direction  over  the  steppes  and  desert,  until,  on  the  afternoon 
of  June  2ist,  we  reached  Kashgar — the  westernmost  town  of 
China.  The  jjeople  we  came  in  contact  with  were  Kirghiz 
and  Jagatai  Turks.  After  the  scorching  heat  of  the  desert  of 
Takla-makan,  I thoroughly  enjoyed  the  fresh  mountain  air. 
As  it  was  the  rainy  period,  it  was  still  further  cooled  by  the 


FROM  AK-SU  TO  KASHGAR 


645 


rains,  which  often  fell  in  copious  quantities,  and  by  storms, 
which  drove  uj)  and  down  the  valley  from  the  east  and  from 
the  west,  as  though  they  were  being  discharged  through  a 
rifle-barrel.  We  passed  the  towns  and  aids  of  Utch-musduk 
(the  Three  Cilaciers),Sum-tash,  Kizil-eshmeh(the  Red  Springs), 


PART  OF  KUM-DARVASEH,  ONE  OF  THE  GATES  OF  KASHGAR 

Kustcheh  (the  Autumn  Place),  Jai-teve  (the  Grave  Hill),  So- 
gun-karaol,  Kalta-yeylak  (the  Little  Summer  Pasture-Ground), 
and  Besh-kerem  (the  Five  Fortresses). 

In  Kashgar  I stayed  barely  three  weeks,  and  busy  weeks 
they  were,  as  I worked  hard  at  equipping  and  fitting  out  an- 
other caravan.  ]\Iy  old  friend  Mr.  Petrovsky,  who  during  my 
absence  had  been  advanced  to  the  dignity  of  consul-general, 
and,  in  addition,  shortly  after  that  was,  for  his  invaluable  ser- 
vices to  me,  honored  by  King  Oscar  with  the  star  of  a knight- 
commander  of  the  Vasa  order,  welcomed  me  with  much  glad- 
ness and  emotion,  and  did  all  in  his  power  to  help  me  with 


646 


THROUGH  ASIA 


the  preparations  for  my  next  expedition.  As  soon  as  he 
learned  of  our  unlucky  desert  journey  from  the  aksakal  of 
Khotan.  he  had  gone  to  the  Dao  Tai  and  given  him  to  un- 
derstand that  unless  he  promptly  made  inquiries  after  my  lost 
camel  in  both  Khotan  and  Ak-su  he  would  hear  of  the  matter 
from  the  Tsung-li-yamen  in  Peking.  The  Dao  Tai  did  his 
duty;  and  our  astonishment  may  be  imagined  when  one  day, 
while  we  were  dining  with  him,  he  placed  upon  the  table  my 
Swedish  officer’s  revolver.  It  had  been  among  the  things  in 
the  load  which  Nahr,  the  lost  camel,  carried.  The  weapon 
had  been  given  by  an  unknown  horseman  to  a peasant  in  the 
village  of  Tavek-kel.  The  search  after  the  thief  was  renewed 
with  redoubled  zeal ; but  the  Chinese  mandarins  never  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  any  clew  to  the  guilty  party.  I gave  myself 
but  little  further  trouble  about  the  matter,  being  entirely  taken 
up  with  fresh  plans  and  projects  for  the  immediate  future. 

The  very  next  day  after  my  arrival  at  Kashgar  I despatched 
a courier  to  Osh,  with  several  letters  and  despatches,  among 
others  one  for  my  teacher  and  friend,  Baron  von  Richthofen, 
in  Berlin,  asking  him  to  send  me  a new  and  complete  set  of 
meteorological  instruments  — aneroids,  boiling-point  ther- 
mometers, etc.  I telegraphed  to  Tashkend  for  clothes,  pro- 
visions, and  tobacco  ; and  obtained  a supply  of  cartridges  and 
powder  from  the  Cossack  guard  in  Kashgar.  The  things 
which  I had  ordered  from  Europe  could  not  arrive  for  three 
months.  I could  not  possibly  spend  all  that  time  in  inaction, 
especially  as  the  heat  of  the  summer  made  me  long  for  the 
fresh,  cool  air  of  the  mountains.  The  only  thing  that  de- 
tained me  in  Kashgar  was  the  non-arrival  of  my  letters  from 
Sweden.  During  my  absence  Consul-General  Petrovsky  had 
sent  them  to  Keriya,  beyond  Khotan,  and  they  had  not  yet 
come  back  again.  But  here  the  Dao  Tai  came  to  my  assist- 
ance, and  did  me  the  very  great  service  of  .sending  express 
couriers  all  the  way  to  Keriya  to  fetch  them.  The  men— for 
there  was  a fresh  courier  and  fresh  horses  for  each  stage  of 
the  journey — took  twelve  days  to  go  there  and  back ; and.  as 
the  distance  was  870  miles,  they  rode  at  the  rate  of  about 
seventy-two  miles  a day. 


COUKT-VARD  OF  A MOSQUE  IN  CENTKAl.  ASIA 


^ - - =■'  • 


A GROUP  OF  KIRGHIZ  AND  A CHINAMAN 


I' ROM  AK-SU  ro  KASHGAR 


649 


In  a couple  of  weeks  I had  comideted  my  preparations  for 
afresh  start.  The  kindness  and  self-sacrificing  help  I re- 
ceived from  Mr.  Petrovsky,  Mr.  Macartney,  and  the  Swedish 
missionary,  Mr.  Ilogberg,  were  of  such  a character  as  I shall 
never  forget.  Phey  all  three  vied  with  one  another  in  their 
efforts  to  assist  me.  The  first  and  the  second  loaned  me 
some  aneroids  and  hypsometers ; my  countryman  loaned  me 
several  things  of  practical  value.  A tailor  in  the  town  made 
me  some  clothes  of  Chinese  cloth,  and  sewed  me  furs  to- 
gether, and  a tent.  I bought  horses,  saddles,  and  stores  of 
provisions  in  the  bazaars.  When  we  started  again,  on  July 
loth,  I could  scarcely  believe  that,  only  two  months  earlier, 
I had  suffered  a loss  which,  at  the  time,  seemed  as  though 
it  would  utterly  wreck  all  my  plans. 

But  whither  should  we  turn  our  footsteps  now.^  To  go  to 
the  north,  and  explore  the  Tian-shan  mountains,  would  have 
been  going  over  ground  that  is  already  tolerably  well  known. 
The  time  was  too  short  to  admit  of  my  going  so  far  south  as 
the  Kwen-lun  mountains.  To  the  west  was  the  high  plateau 
of  the  Pamirs,  which  I had  already  crossed  in  several  direc- 
tions. Despite  this,  I determined  once  more  to  visit  that 
region,  and  spend  the  hot  months  among  the  mountain- 
giants  on  the  Roof  of  the  World,  in  continuing  the  inxesti- 
gations  which  I began  the  previous  summer. 


END  OF  VOL.  1 


PAMIR 


C\taA«T- 


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DATE  DUE 


